Revans Reborn
by Asviloka
Summary: Revan is dead, but the Jedi need the Dark Lord's knowledge to find a way to stop Malak. They try to bring Revan back. Several times. Havoc ensues. KotOR AU: Multi-viewpoint.
1. Prologue: Revan Reborn

**_Dantooine, AR: day 8_**

* * *

In a small room on a remote world, two figures lay on tables in the medical section of the Jedi Enclave. One was dead, preserved in a wrapping of the Force that prevented decay, kept the semblance of life. It might be breathing, but it was not living.

The other was merely unconscious.

Around them stood several obviously alive figures: those of the Jedi Council, and one young padawan. . .

"We're running out of time," Bastila said, worry plain on her face. "If this doesn't work. . ."

"It will," Master Zhar insisted. "We have learned from our mistakes."

Bastila frowned. "I hope so."

She closed her eyes, reached her awareness out through the maze of un-thought that was the dead body and into the bald stranger. He was an explorer, one who happened to be on Dantooine and accepted the Jedi Council's offer. A fortune, and a job. Hazard pay, it would be considered in any other occupation.

Her thoughts wandered, but that didn't matter. The link held, through the dead Jedi, into the stranger.

The Council members did the rest. Following the thread she held, they collected what they needed from the dead mind, imprinting it through her onto the living one.

It was a long process, hours and hours. Had she not been trained in meditation, Bastila suspected her limbs would have gone numb from the physical inaction, but she was a Jedi Padawan and well prepared for it.

The fact that they had done this every day for a week made it both easier and more unbearably dull. She no longer watched the Masters with curiosity or eagerness to learn, she didn't care any longer what they were doing. It was complicated. It was cutting-edge.

It was very boring.

She let her thoughts drift to nothing in particular. Her job was to provide a mental tether that connected the deceased Sith Lord to the volunteer. The Council was doing all the hard work and so long as her connection didn't waver she could think whatever she pleased.

At last she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Well done, Padawan," Master Zhar said. "The process is complete. Revan is reborn, on the path of Light, ready to return to us in the proper time."

Bastila let her mind snap back into itself, and only then did the fatigue hit her. She blinked dizzily.

"You will take him to the distant world of Taris," Master Vandar said. "I sense the threads of the future gather there. Knight Cora will accompany you."

"Shalli?" Bastila groaned. The older girl had been a padawan during much of her own training, but recently had been raised to Knight and would not let anyone forget it. Her arrogance grated on Bastila, and the two young women had clashed more than once. "Why her?"

"She has a connection to this matter as well," Master Dorak said. "The future depends upon everyone being in their proper place."

"You put too much trust in this padawan," Master Vrook said. He didn't glare at Bastila, but she felt the disdain oozing off him. "One of us should accompany the reborn Revan. He will need guidance that one so young could not possibly provide."

"Peace, Vrook," Vandar said. "The future is never sure, but in this I feel confident that things will work out as they should. Trust in the Force. It has guided us well so far."

Vrook snorted. "Guided us well? Is that what you call a week of wearing ourselves out in this futile attempt to recover the dead?"

"Yet we have succeeded," Vandar said, gesturing to the unconscious man. "Once a simple explorer, yet now you can feel the strength of the Force flowing through him. In his mind, in his dreams, you can see that he has become Revan."

Bastila stood, almost fell over. She was _so_ tired. It hadn't been so bad the first times, but day after day after day of maintaining a mental connection through a _dead mind_ was one thing she had never trained for. Physically, she was fine, but mentally she was on the verge of passing out herself.

"Rest, padawan," Master Zhar told her softly. "Our debates need not keep you. Your quarters on the _Endar Spire_ are prepared. Knight Cora will join you soon. The crew know what to do, you'll leave before morning."

Bastila shakily executed her trademark bow, flourishing her hands to the sides. "As you say, Masters."

Vandar shook his head as the padawan exited the room. "That one has much to learn," he said quietly, so she would not hear.

"And this madness is folly," Vrook said, gesturing to the unconscious man. "Revan reborn? He was enough trouble before, what business do we have bringing him _back_."

 _—=====—_

* * *

 _Author's Note : POV characters' names, when not pre-existing, were taken from the Kotor and KotorII 'random name' functions. I generally use whatever it gave first, as I think this adds to the atmosphere of this silly thing. There were a few that I took out-of-order because it fit the story better. (i.e. siblings having the same surname)_

 _Personal Note: Once upon a time, I thought I would never write fanfictions. Then I started Fall With Me, first as a quick thing for myself, then a longer thing, then I decided to start posting it. And then I discovered while writing it that I have more ideas, ideas that go farther away from the base game, ideas that go strange places and don't pretend to know what they're doing._

 _This is a silly thing, a hiccuping romp that I'm not trying to do 'well', casual and ridiculous by design._

 _(And for those of you following Fall With Me, don't worry. My main focus is still on that story, this will not be causing any delay in updates.)_


	2. Introduction: Nile Chan

_Scattered throughout the galaxy, they waited._

 _Not by any design, nor by any plan, they waited without knowing they were incomplete, without understanding they were rejected._

 _Failures, all. Rich failures, at least those who did not immediately squander their fortune, but failures nonetheless._

 _All but one._

* * *

 _ **Endar Spire, Taris, AR: day 12**  
_

* * *

The man called Nile Chan awakened as a battle raged above a disputed world, the chaos of war giving rise to instincts he didn't remember until that moment. Reaching out, he sensed one other who matched his instinctive grasping for the powers he had been so long without.

"Who are you?" he asked, then after a moment's thought, added, "And who am I?"

"I am Bastila, and you are Revan. We are Jedi, of the Republic, here to aid in the fight against the Sith Lord Malak," the reply came. He gave no thought to the fact that he spoke in his mind, with one halfway across the massive capitol ship.

"I was betrayed," he said, and frowned. "Revan was destroyed."

"Revan was killed, but not destroyed," she told him. "You are proof of that. Come to me, we must flee this ship before it is lost. Malak's fleet is overwhelming."

He stood, uncertain now. He stared about the room, unfamiliar room, unfamiliar layout. He was in the crew quarters, not the command station. He had no mental map of this ship, no instinctive understanding of where to go.

The door burst open. A white-haired Alderaani man rushed in. "We've been ambushed by a Sith battle fleet!"

"I need to find Bastila and escape the ship," he replied to the stranger. "Where are my weapons?" He hesitated, shivered in the breeze from the open door. "And where are my clothes?"

"In your footlocker, right there," the stranger told him.

He glanced at the locker. "Nile Chan," he read, confused. "My name is _Nile Chan_?"

"And I'm Trask Ulgo. We work opposite shifts, remember?"

The newly-named 'Nile' shook his head. "I've never seen you before in my life."

"That's not important right now. Hurry up and grab your gear so we can protect Bastila."

Nile shrugged. "Bastila said my name was Revan," he said, slipping on his shirt and pants, buckling his vest with practiced ease. "Also, I'm a Jedi. This. . ." he held up the short sword by its guard with a look of utter disdain, "This is not my weapon."

Trask laughed. "Look, I know all about your reputation. You've been all over the galaxy, seen places I've never even heard of, but Bastila and her personal escort are the only Jedi on this ship."

Nile had a strange urge to choke the man. But instead he sighed and sheathed the sword. "I need my lightsaber," he growled. "And my blaster. I custom modified it, ion and electric, perfect for popping droids."

"That's your blaster," Trask said, pointing to the weapon lying in the bottom of the locker. His tone of voice made it clear he considered 'Nile' to be more than a little out of it. "Come on, grab it and let's go."

"This is _not_ my blaster!" Nile insisted. But he grabbed the inferior weapon and strapped it to his belt opposite the short sword. "Hurry and get me to Bastila. Maybe she knows where my saber is."

Trask shook his head, but opened the door and led the way through the corridors. Sith soldiers swarmed the place, but Nile and Trask were sufficiently well-trained to take them down wherever they met them.

"This is Carth Onasi," came a crackling voice over the cheap comlink on Nile's belt, the same message echoed through Trask's. "The Sith are threatening to overrun our position. All hands to the bridge!"

A moment later, the same voice said, through only Nile's comlink this time, "Nile Chan, report to the escape pods immediately! Bastila refuses to leave without you and we're hard pressed here."

"The bridge is on the way to the escape pods from here," Trask said. "I can point you the right direction."

Nile nodded. "Hurry."

He felt confidence flowing through him from some undefinable source, and could see by the energy that Trask suddenly exhibited that the change wasn't only in him.

The Sith soldiers they encountered seemed hesitant, wary, even afraid.

Nile didn't know what was happening, but he certainly would be glad to take advantage of it. They ran through the passages, clearing out any Sith they met without hardly slowing, arrived at the bridge.

No one was there. Sith and Republic soldiers alike lay dead or practically dead all around.

Trask barely hesitated. "The escape pods are this way," he said, pointing to another doorway. "Looks like the battle has moved."

"This is Carth," came the voice again, more urgently this time, through Nile's comlink. "Nile Chan, get to the escape pods now! We have reports of Dark Jedi breaching the ship, we have to get Bastila away."

Nile motioned for Trask to hurry, and they ran around the corner flat out.

The door at the opposite end of the corridor opened, revealing a trio of Sith in silver and black uniforms. The leader activated a double-bladed lightsaber, his two followers each had a single-blade. All three glowed redder than a laigrak's eye.

"GIVE ME THAT!" Nile shouted, driven by sudden desire, a need deep within him. He jumped forward, tossing aside the short sword and thrusting both hands out in front of him, reached out with every instinct for the weapon. He didn't know where the strength came from, but the lead Sith stumbled forward as the Force of that pull nearly yanked him off his feet. The lightsaber flew from his grasp, whirling end over end in a flurry of crimson, coming to land in Nile's expert grip. With a glower and a flourish, he let out a feral scream and ran forward.

Trask watched with open-mouthed astonishment as Nile's charge backed the trio of Sith through the door. He blocked lightning and sabers alike, driving the Sith back another step, then spun about and slammed the lightsaber blade into the panel beside the door. With a hiss, the blast door slammed shut in automatic lockdown.

"That'll hold them about twenty seconds," Nile said, turning to Trask. He deactivated the lightsaber and clipped it to his belt in a smooth motion that made Trask question his own sanity.

"Fifteen seconds," Nile urged as a pair of red-glowing blades began carving through the sealed door. "Come _on_ , you're the one who knows where we're going!"

"Right," Trask said, shaking himself out of his temporary stupor. "This way."

They ran on. A few seconds later, they heard the _thump_ as the door was breached.

"Right down there," Trask said, pointing to a side door. "I'll hold them off."

"Don't be an idiot," Nile said, smashing the control panel on the door they'd just passed through. It blared alarms, sealed itself. "We have two doors between us now, that's more than enough to hold them while we launch the escape pods."

"Oh, right," Trask said, sounding almost dazed.

They ran through the last door, Nile sealing it behind them. The escape pod bay contained not quite as many bodies as the bridge had, but there had obviously been a great fight here.

"Revan, there you are," Bastila said, rising smoothly from where she meditated on the floor of the bay. He knew her first by her voice, but she did look vaguely familiar as well. "Come on," she said, gesturing to one of two remaining escape pods.

Nile followed her without question as Trask and Carth climbed into the other pod. He glanced back, saw the red blades carving through the last door.

Then the escape pod door sealed and they shot off into space, toward the city-planet beneath them.

—=====—

* * *

 _Author's Note : There will be character introductions scattered throughout the first part of this story. They will be taking place roughly at the same time in the main storyline as when they are posted, but any minor discrepancies should be ignored._

 _When a character is introduced, I will place their rough profile in the notes as below. These profiles will always be subject to change: I just started this story yesterday and have yet to get a firm grasp on the characters, and as the story progresses the characters may change and shift with it._

 _The profiles will always be in the 'Introduction: character-name' chapter, so they should be easy to find for reference or in case of confusion._

* * *

Nile Chan is bald, above-average height, with yellowish skin and green-grey eyes. He tends to be a bit gruff in his behavior, and doesn't smile readily.  
Light-Dark ratio: 80-20  
Key traits: stubborn

Favoured weapon: Double-bladed lightsaber


	3. Weak Minds of Fools

**_Taris, AR: day 13_**

* * *

The escape pod bounced and screeched, then came to a landing with a violent crash. Despite the safety harnesses, Revan's head bounced off the padded back hard enough to send him spiraling into unconsciousness.

Bastila lost her lightsaber in the confusion, the landing shaking it free of her distracted grasp.

The pod had come to rest on its side. Revan lay strapped to the 'bottom', while Bastila hung awkwardly from the new top. She didn't see her weapon, but considered it less important than ensuring Revan survived. She disengaged the straps, dropped down to land adroitly by Revan's side.

"We'd better not have gone to all this trouble only to have you die on us," she told him firmly. He was still breathing, peaceful in his unconsciousness. She smiled. He was alive. Her mission could still be completed.

Before she could think farther than that, the door to the escape pod sprang open. A trio of ill-kempt nikto of a subspecies she didn't immediately recognize grinned in at her.

"Ha, look what we've found, eh? Pretty slave girl, yes."

She drew herself up haughtily. "I am Bastila Shan of the Jedi Order, and this is Lord Revan of the Jedi Order. If you have any thoughts other than flight or surrender, I suggest you forget them immediately."

"Heh, pretty slave girl talks big," another of the aliens said.

"Pretty slave girl worth big reward to Brejik," replied the first. They stepped forward.

Bastila drew her hand across their vision slowly, their eyes instinctively following the motion, injecting power and Force behind her voice. "You want to help me and serve me in any way you can," she intoned.

"We want to help you," the first thug said.

"And serve you in any way we can," the second added quickly.

"Good." Bastila stooped, found her lightsaber, clipped it to her belt. "Stand guard here. If anyone comes, let me know."

She didn't wait for their acknowledgment, sat down beside Revan and closed her eyes in meditation. His mind would be adrift now, this was the vital time. The Masters claimed it had worked, but she had to know for herself if they had truly succeeded.

—=====—

 _Nile hovered over an abyss of darkness and green energy. Voices echoed from below, calling to him to save them._

 _He wanted to help them, yearned to help them, but he could not move and could not speak. He drifted alone, darkness above, death below._

 _"You can't change what has been," Bastila told him, her voice echoing around him. "But we can change the future, together."_

 _He focused on her voice, and then she stood before him. Two other Jedi accompanied her, they stared at him with sharp intent. They wanted him, wanted to bind him, wanted to change him._

 _He looked within himself and was afraid, he backed away from them. But he was awry, something was wrong_, _he needed to be changed. Something evil had circled itself around his soul, crushing him into this abyss of darkness from which he could not escape. The power he drew on, the power of that darkness, was of no use against itself. It only drew him in farther, farther._

 _He reached out to Bastila and her Jedi. "Help me," he said, his voice a faint whisper._

 _"Come back to the light," Bastila told him, offering her hand._

 _White glowed behind her, around them. Everything, white, and then whiter still until he wished he had eyes to close against the brilliance._

 _He took her hand. . ._

Bastila helped him to his feet. He blinked, disoriented. The whiteness had dissolved. He saw instead a Republic escape pod.

"Wha—" he blinked, rubbed at his stinging eyes, sat up. "Ohh, what happened?"

"There wasn't time to maneuver the escape pod, we were too low to the planet's atmosphere," Bastila told him. "We need to find a ship."

"Alright." Nile got to his feet. Bastila stared at him with an odd mixture of respect and arrogance, as though sizing him up and not sure if he was worth her time or not. He frowned at her. "What?"

"You are Revan, correct?"

"I can't say for sure," Nile said. "You told me I'm Revan. Trask told me I'm Nile. Neither name means very much to me right now."

Bastila's glance flickered to the saber at his belt. "Where did you get that?"

Nile glanced down where she was looking. "Took it from a Sith. He didn't have a strong grip on it, but he was good with lightning. Got my arm before I could catch it." He glanced at the scorch mark on his left arm. It didn't hurt much, but the remembered sting of it was enough to set it tingling.

"Be cautious," Bastila said. "A weapon of the Dark Side."

"It's a lightsaber, not a Rakata device," Nile said. "It has no alignment to light or dark."

"A what device?" Bastila asked.

"Huh?"

"You said it was not a. . . rakata device?"

"Did I? It's a figure of speech. It means. . ." He grunted, suddenly unsure what he meant, twirled the hilt. "It's a lightsaber. It'll work."

He fumbled the device, almost dropped it. Nile glared at his hand. His reactions were off, as though his years of training were imprinted on his _mind_ but not his body. The strength of the Force had aided him in the heat of battle before, but now he felt as clumsy as a youngling.

"I would like to spar with you," he said as he followed Bastila out of the escape pod and into the night beyond. "I feel very out of practice."

Bastila inclined her head. "It would cause a commotion," she said. "Malak's men are surely looking for us."

Nile shook his head. "Malak is the commander because he's my friend, not because he is a good leader. They won't find us, and if they do it would be better that I am in full fighting form."

"You three," Bastila said to her blank-eyed watchmen. "Do you know of anyplace secure where we would be safe from the Sith?"

"The sewers would be safe from the Sith," the first thug said. "No one ventures there and returns."

"Why not?" Bastila inquired.

"The sewers are full of rakghouls and gamorrean slavers," the second nikto replied.

"What's a rakghoul?" Nile demanded.

The nikto gave no sign of acknowledging Nile.

"Answer him," Bastila ordered.

"Rakghouls are plague beasts," the thug replied impassively. "If they bite you, it takes over and turns you into a rakghoul in time. The cure is rare, synthesized off-world and very expensive. No one down here would have any to offer."

"Plague beasts and gamorreans," Nile said, giving his lighsaber hilt another twirl. This time he recovered from his fumble quicker, tossed the hilt between his hands. _That_ he could do well and easily. His coordination was good, he just didn't quite have the right instincts for a weapon this shape. "No problem. Show us to the sewers."

"Revan!" Bastila exclaimed. "Are you sure? Shouldn't we be going up, away from lowlifes and toward a ship?"

"No," Nile said. "I know Malak, and I know his forces. What we need to do is hide and wait. They will quarantine the planet and search for us, but if we evade them for a few weeks he'll have to divert his attention elsewhere. The Republic and the Jedi won't just sit and wait while he takes his sweet time on Taris, and even he isn't idiot enough to let the war fall apart over the two of us."

"He thinks you're dead," Bastila replied. "So, technically, it's just over _me_."

"All the better," Nile said. He turned to their lowlife escorts. "Now, take us to the sewers."


	4. Dark and Dank and Damp

Bastila did _not_ appreciate sewers. They were not the proper place for a Jedi, and the thought of living, _eating_ , and _sleeping_ in them for _weeks_ did not sit well with her stomach. Or her nose. The stench wasn't quite strong enough to bring tears to her eyes, but it had also only had a few minutes to work at it.

"Have them go about their business and forget about us," Revan instructed.

Bastila nodded. "You three," she said to her thugs, bringing her hand across in front of their glazed eyes. "Return to your business. You will not remember meeting us or coming here."

"I will return to my business," they chorused. "And won't remember meeting you or coming here."

They turned and exited the sewers, the door shutting with a soft _clang_ as they departed.

"We should find a secure location," Revan said. "Then we need food. The gamorreans would be a good place to start."

He set off confidently, seemingly unaffected by the vile sludge that flowed beneath the walkways, dripped from the walls, and coated everything in sight.

Bastila shuddered at the thought of sleeping _anywhere_ in the place. Or sitting. Or eating, for that matter. But she followed.

They turned right, then turned right again and came to a dead end. There was a ladder leading to the surface, but it was jammed and blocked from the outside, the metal twisted toward the top as though something heavy had collapsed atop it.

"A secure place to make a stand," Revan noted. He turned back to the long hallway.

"Are you sure we have to hide _here_ ," Bastila asked as they walked, a note of pleading creeping into her voice. She wasn't unfamiliar with less than pleasant locations, but the Taris sewers had to be the worse than the least pleasant place she had ever conceived of.

"Sssh," Revan said. He stopped sharply, holding up a hand.

They stood silent, faint echoes of their voices traveling back through the tunnel, then a hissing that was not Revan's hush. Snarling. Rapid patter of footfalls, light and uneven, stopping frequently.

"Back," Revan whispered, stepping silently down the tunnel, back toward the dead end.

"We'll be trapped!" Bastila exclaimed.

" _Ssh_ ," Revan repeated, waving a hand to quiet her. He continued moving toward the open door, the dead end room with no way out.

Bastila had no choice. She followed him, cursing softly. How did she end up here? A sharp spike of fear insinuated itself into her thoughts, before she quashed it as unworthy of a Jedi.

They took positions spaced evenly apart, far enough that their blades wouldn't tangle in each others' way, but close enough to prevent anyone passing between them and near enough the doors that no one could get around them. The position restricted their vision of the corridor outside, but they would be able to see anyone approaching the doorway.

Revan held his double-blade hilt easily in one hand, ready to activate if needed. Bastila sensed the Force flowing through him, through her, smooth and steady. His inner core shone, pure and clear, only the slightest hint of darkness. She couldn't help feeling a brief surge of pride.

The Council had done it right, though it had taken them almost to the last moment. This was Revan as he should have been, all the knowledge, most of the power, and none of the evil. It made her proud to be a Jedi, proud to have helped them, proud to be standing by the side of the reborn Lord Revan now.

She took a deep breath, and the sewer stench promptly dissolved any pleasure she might have taken in the moment. She coughed with the unexpectedness of it, for a moment she had forgotten her surroundings.

 _You must be ever mindful of the present, of where you are and what you do._ The memory of Master Zhar's teaching echoed through her mind. She took another breath, ignoring the vileness of the air, centered herself. She couldn't meditate properly in a battle-ready state, but one side-benefit of her strength in battle meditation was the ability to sense others at far greater distances than the average Jedi.

Reaching out, she felt dozens of minds in the immediate vicinity, but none of them sane. All were twisted, warped by pain and hatred, as though the Dark Side itself had forcibly rewritten their being. Yet the Force was quiet around them, weak, barely touching them. This was natural, however unnatural it felt, not some Sith perversion of the Force.

She shuddered, hissed in another breath. Too loud. The creatures heard it. They were coming, faster now that their course was determined.

Bastila activated her lightsaber, twirled the golden-yellow double-blade before her and settled into a ready stance.

Revan tensed beside her, activated his own lightsaber. His double-blade, a fraction longer than her own, shone with an evil red light. Bastila shuddered again, for a different reason.

Everything around them was suddenly cast in bright light and shadow, the glow of their blades cutting through the dimly-lit sewer corridors with a sharpness that matched the waiting hum of the active lightsabers.

Echoes bounded to them, ahead of the approaching creatures. Then the rakghouls rounded the corner and the Jedi moved smoothly into action.

Sound and motion and chaos. Sizzling, screeching, hissing. The smell of burnt hide and the acrid taste of the creatures' blood boiled into the air by the lightsabers' contact. Life and death and desperation and unity, all woven together in the smoothness of motion by the Force.

Bastila and Revan moved as one, synchronized as they lunged and charged, retreated and feinted. The battle lasted only moments, the dozen creatures feral and aggressive, coordinated as a pack but not skilled in fighting Jedi. Then the corridor carried only echoes of the brief flash of violent conflict, the hum of lightsabers at rest, then the quiet sizzle as they deactivated.

The hall seemed impenetrably dark without the brightness of their blades, and Bastila had to push away another spike of unreasonable fear. They were alive, untouched, alone. Safe.

"How many more of those are out there," Revan asked, his tone steady and calm.

Bastila extended her mind through the Force, probing for others.

"Hundreds," she said in a faint voice. "Most packs are smaller than that one, they have territories. Some of them fight even now, trying to claim larger lands."

She sensed minds that were whole, unwarped. Greedy, filthy little idiot minds, but even that was a relief against the harsh _wrongness_ of the rakghouls thoughts.

"The gamorreans are that way," she said, gesturing. She could feel their thoughts, could sense where the rakghouls congregated, but had no idea how that matched up with the tunnels and corridors. The Force showed life, not terrain.

"Good," Revan said. "Let's go."

—=====—

* * *

 _Author's Note: I spent two hours today researching hyperspace lanes, relative planetary locations, and the regions of the galaxy in search of a planet that fit the criteria I wanted for the next chapter. In the end, I grew utterly frustrated by the endless list of planets with a one-paragraph no-information page and gave up in disgust. Then, of course, I promptly found two that would potentially fit my needs by browsing unrelated stories. Moral of the story: The Star Wars universe is really big.  
_

 _Update: Fixed a few typos and minor inconsistencies in the last couple chapters, tightened up some drifting sentences. Nothing important was changed.  
_


	5. Big and Thugly

Nile and Bastila fought three more bands of rakghouls before arriving in the gamorrean territory of the sewers. Patrolled by the dull-witted pigmen, these tunnels were kept free of the plague beasts and any other intruders. The occasional corpse lay crumpled in corners or half-submerged in the sludge below, testament to the effectiveness of the gamorrean patrols.

The intruders today were not your mundane desperate fools running from the rakghouls. Not undercity outcasts, nor lower-city scavengers, these two were Jedi.

The first patrol they met tried to stop them, with crossed weapons and gruff squeals of protest. The sight of four lightsaber blades quickly changed their minds. Gamorreans may have a reputation for slow wits and lack of common sense, but even they can occasionally understand that it's better to surrender than die.

With this escort, Nile and Bastila were brought to the lair of the gamorreans' chief. A big and equally ugly creature, it eyed the Jedi with distaste before finally addressing them.

"Who you be?" it squealed. "Why you here? This be my land!"

The chief stomped his axe-haft to the floor for emphasis, the echoing clang reverberating off the close walls and ceiling of the tunnel.

"We need a place to stay for a few weeks," Nile said. "We can help clear out the rakghouls, let you claim more territory, if you will provide us with food and shelter."

"We no need help, we no need more land," the gamorrean said. "We have land and no one bother us here. We strong here. We go too far, we too few to hold all entry. You want stay, need give better than that."

Nile pursed his lips thoughtfully. This gamorrean seemed well above average intellect for their species. That made for a more valuable ally, but also more of a potential threat.

"Can't I just mind-trick them and have done with it?" Bastila whispered.

Nile shook his head. Using the Force that way would leave an obvious trail to them. The lower-city thugs might already be enough of a clue to lead someone intelligent to the sewers, but even then no one would suspect Jedi of hiding out with gamorrean slavers.

 _Slavers_ , he thought. Of course. Undercity thugs like these would need a way to discretely sell their prisoners. After he had shut down the more prominent slave markets on Taris during the war, the slave trade had to move underground. And its sales points would have shifted as well.

"Do you have a way to get off-planet?" he asked the chief.

"We have ship. No fly ship now, big ships watch, shoot down any leaving."

Nile raised his eyebrows, surprised. He and Bastila had escaped Malak's ambush several hours ago, but that wasn't much time for news of a Sith quarantine to reach all the way down here. Either the planet had been already blockaded before he and Bastila arrived, or these gamorreans were _very_ on top of things.

He didn't know enough about the situation on Taris. Events seemed disjointed and blurred over the days following his defeat and death. Trying to remember anything clearly from recent weeks only made his head ache. He frowned and brought his attention back to the present, making a mental note to ask Bastila about the state of the war another time.

"I'm good with ships," Nile told the chief. "If you have any repairs you need done, any upgrades, any modifications, I can do it. In return, you let us stay here until the big ships leave, and take us off-world next time you leave."

"We not take you all across galaxy," the gamorrean warned. "We go to Sleheyron only."

"That will be fine," Nile said.

"Why would we ever want to go _there_?" Bastila hissed. "And we can't afford to stay for weeks! I have to get back to the front, the Republic needs me!"

Nile held up his hand to quiet her. "Do we have an agreement?"

The gamorrean waggled its piggy head from side to side, squinting and considering.

"You upgrade ship good, we take you to Sleheyron," it finally said. "You stay in cell with slaves, safe there. No one look with slaves. We hide you good, you fix ship, we all go. Yes?"

Nile nodded. "Agreed."

—=====—

The slave quarters turned out to be behind a heavy door with a carefully-maintained manual style lock in a decades-old design. The sleeping cots were little more than untidy heaps of ragged cloth, but the room itself was a gutted former control room and thus had an actual floor instead of the grated pathway over floods of sewage.

Bastila hated to admit it, but it was better than what she had imagined. It smelled of sweat and fear, but that was an improvement over the rest of the area. She'd take slave-stank over gamorreans and sewers any day.

A handful of slaves sat about the room, which was only slightly larger than her cramped quarters on board the _Endar Spire_. Of course, none of the room was taken up by furniture, which made it feel almost spacious. There were a half-dozen cots on the ground, three occupied, three empty. The gamorreans had thrown Bastila a few extra blankets and gave Revan a pack of food, but otherwise they were apparently to live like the slaves.

There was a sliding panel at the back of the room that led to what was presumably the makeshift 'fresher, but Bastila doubted it contained a shower, a sink only if they were very fortunate. Still, living in the sewers, she supposed showers wouldn't accomplish much for long. And gamorreans were never known for their strict adherence to hygiene.

She sighed, resigned herself to a miserable time of it, and dropped their blankets onto the two cots nearest the door.

Revan was staring into the bag of food, a frown wrinkling his brow.

"What is it?" she asked.

"If we divide this five ways, it would barely last one day," he said. "They said it was enough for two."

"For us," Bastila realized. "These poor slaves would probably be fed something even worse."

Revan said nothing for a long moment. He continued moving the packets around with his finger, sorting them into five piles. Five very small piles. He stared at them, slowly recombined them into two larger collections.

"What are you doing?" Bastila asked quietly. "Are we going to force these poor souls to go without while we live better than they?"

"Yes," Revan said, slowly. "If we are to aid them, we need strength. Nothing will happen to them while we remain here, the gamorreans would not waste the lives they plan to profit upon. If we are too weak to fulfill our end of the agreement, if we would be more profitable as prisoners ourselves, then the arrangement may be dissolved prematurely. We cannot afford weakness now. Once we arrive on Sleheyron we will be free to act without dishonour. Then we can free the slaves and return to the Jedi."

"A Jedi's life is sacrifice," Bastila said quietly. "I do not feel right hoarding all this for ourselves."

"Listen to your feelings, but do not be ruled by them," Revan said. "There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. You must understand when to act for others, and know when that action would only be harmful in the end. Sometimes inaction is the true sacrifice."

Bastila sighed unhappily, but she nodded. "Thank you," she said, politely if grudgingly.

"For what?"

"You didn't have to explain yourself to me. You are a Knight, I am only a padawan and not your apprentice."

Revan grunted. "I have never been stingy with my opinions or advice," he said. "Perhaps I should be thanking you, for actually listening."

Bastila inclined her head. "Perhaps you should."

—=====—

* * *

 _Author's Note : I had this chapter almost entirely written when I posted the last update, but have yet to start the next. I do have another character introduction almost ready, I'm debating where the best spot in the storyline to stick it is. This may be that spot, but don't get your hopes too high just because I managed three chapters in less than a week. Updates will still be sporadic._

 _(I'm having too much fun coming up with silly chapter names, can you tell?) :p_


	6. Introduction: Shalli Cora

_Scattered throughout the galaxy, they fought._

 _Not following any grand plan or design, some fought for themselves and some for their friends. Some fought for complete strangers while others had no better reason than their own confusion._

 _Confusion, the one thing they all shared. Lost, forgotten failures, they awakened to their power too late to understand._

 _But not too late to act._

* * *

 _ **Leviathan, Taris, AR: day 15**  
_

* * *

The woman called Shalli Cora awakened in a torture cage. The cage was not fully active at the moment, set only to contain and not harm, but Shalli screamed with impotent fury at being imprisoned. She did not remember ever being defeated, yet here she stood, trapped.

Her equipment was gone. Her lightsaber was gone. And what on earth was she _wearing_?

Force Lightning lashed out from her hands as she raged, sparking harmlessly against the energy field that sustained her prison.

"Let me out of here, or I'll destroy every last one of you!" she shrieked. No one answered her, the room was quite empty. "Come out and show yourselves, _cowards_!"

Her scream of challenge echoed off the metallic walls, met only with her own continued threats.

She tried to force her way through the electrical field that surrounded her, but the harder she pressed against it the tighter it held and finally the burning pain of it was enough to force her to subside.

Breath and physical energy exhausted, she slumped to the floor. Her back brushed the cage, eliciting a sharp hiss from her as she flinched away. She centered herself, knelt with fists pressed to the floor beside her, seething with emotion that couldn't be channeled against anyone.

Then her eyes snapped up, her gaze settling on the control panel across the room. A feral grin split her face, she bared her teeth and let out a pleased snarl.

Raising one hand, she directed the Force through the panel. It would require careful control, trial and error, but she was strong enough to take it. She closed her eyes, visualizing the controls through the touch of Force that probed over them.

The first control she toggled activated the torture field. Electrical pain impulses assailed her immediately. Her breath caught at the suddenness of it and she toggled that switch back off. The next did nothing, so she assumed it must adjust the intensity of the torture field. Several more buttons, probably a keypad of some sort, presumably did something on the screen she couldn't see from her cage.

Then, a flat surface bounded with a thin ridge. A scanner of some sort.

She cursed softly. Even at her height of power, she couldn't have bypassed a scanner like that without seeing the screen and using spikes to access the computer's inner workings.

So much for that plan. She smashed the console with crushing Force, crumpling it and turning it into an uneven ball of metal.

Let them try to hurt her _now_.

 _—=====—_

A few hours later, having exhausted herself again trying to break out of the cage, she considered that smashing the control console might have been an unwise decision. If she had been more patient, she could eventually have rewired it to bypass the scanner entirely.

She snorted derisively at herself. As if she could rewire the interior of a console without seeing it. Even at the height of her power. . .

Shalli frowned. _What_ height of power? She was. . . a Jedi padawan. A gifted one. She bared her teeth. Gifted with the _dark_ side. She took a breath, reached out with the Force, grabbed at the frame of the cage that contained her. It was strong, the durasteel built to withstand greater pressure than she could bring to bear against it. She could more easily tear the ship itself apart than destroy her prison.

She was hungry, but whoever had put her in here seemed not to care what she did. No one had so much as come to look at her, much less feed, interrogate, or release her.

She reached out with the Force, ripped the crumpled control panel up from the floor. Sparks flashed as the power connections were broken, but the cage remained intact and active. It must be powered separately, in case of system failure. Shalli bared her teeth angrily. Of _course_ they'd be more concerned with keeping prisoners in than anything else.

She caught movement from the corner of her eye, turned sharply. A camera in the corner, watching her. She reached out and crushed that as well, snapping it away from the wall and hurling it at her cage. It sizzled against the force wall, bounced off to lay smoking on the floor.

Shalli knelt, seething, and waited.

 _—=====—_

Malak strode into the room.

Shalli leapt to her feet at once. "TRAITOR!" she screamed, reaching out to crush his throat, compress his chest, and send him flying away.

Nothing happened. Her Force absorbed against Malak's own buffer, a layer of shielding Force of his own.

He laughed at her, a sinister mechanical sound. "Foolish Jedi, you are no match for me. I understand you've been making a nuisance of yourself. None of my men are brave enough to enter the room now, and we can't have that."

The Dark Lord shook his head reproachfully.

Shalli raised her chin defiantly, staring down her nose at her former friend. "Release me or I will find a way to make you regret that you did not," she said firmly.

Malak chuckled at her, the sound enraging her further. She seized the crumpled console in the Force, hurled it at Malak's head with all the strength she could muster. He waved a hand at it, deflecting the missile to crash harmlessly against the far wall.

"I told you, you are no match for me, Jedi."

Shalli was in no mood to listen. Lightning leapt to her hands, blasting out toward Malak with all her hatred. The force-cage absorbed it harmlessly, of course, but Malak's face expressed surprise.

"You are strong with the Dark Side already," he said, narrowing his eyes at her. "If you were not so hostile, I would offer you a position in the ranks of my Dark Jedi.

"I'll _never_ serve you," she spat. "You betrayed everything we stood for!"

"I may have turned my back on the Jedi Order," Malak replied calmly, his voice rasping mechanically, "but you seem to have done so as well."

"I care nothing for the _Jedi_ ," Shalli sneered. "They were weak and foolish even before they were decimated in this war. I care nothing for _you_." She glared at Malak directly. "All I demand is my freedom. If we are to face one another again, it will not be soon or by choice."

Malak laughed. "It seems my control panel has been. . . damaged. I doubt we'll be able to release you even should we desire to do so."

He turned to leave, his cape flaring dramatically behind him.

"MALAK!" Shalli screamed. "I will make you pay for what you've done. You should have known better than to betray _me!_ " She ripped a panel off the wall, crumpled the metal sheet, hurled it after the departing Sith, grabbed the camera, the control console, sent them flying toward him with lethal force.

Malak raised a hand dismissively, deflecting the missiles without breaking stride. "Enjoy your stay, Jedi."

The door slid shut behind him, leaving Shalli alone again.

Her cage was too small to allow her to pace. She stomped her foot, fists clenched in fury, and continued to yell curses and threats long after Malak was gone, finally stopping only when her voice was too weak to continue.

She knelt again, seething in her hatred, drawing in power and reserving her little remaining strength. She _would_ get free. One way or another.

 _—=====—_

* * *

 _Profile Notes_ _: Shalli Cora has light skin, pale eyes, and chest-length brown hair which she wears in a braid. She has little use for self-control, no interest in working alongside or under anyone, and every intention of conquering the galaxy for herself and herself alone._  
 _Light-dark ratio: 5-95_  
 _Key traits: Impulsive, arrogant,_  
 _Favoured Weapon: Double-bladed lightsaber_  
 _Favoured Outfit: Dark Jedi Robes_


	7. Mission Forgettable

**_Undercity Sewers, Taris, AR: day 18_**

* * *

Revan and Bastila crossed blades, the two double-ended sabers flashing and spinning in the dimly-lit room.

The watching slaves kept well away, to the edges of the small holding room. They had long since given up trying to convince the Jedi pair to let them free. Obviously, whatever they were doing here had little to do with them.

Mission Vao sat against the wall, occasionally glancing up at the sparring Jedi, much of her attention absorbed in the small device in her hands. She had been trying for over a week now to rig up something that would allow her to hack through a manual lock. She had allowed herself to be captured under the assumption that all the doors in the sewers were the same - complicated, old, electronic, and above all _hackable_. She had never once encountered a manual lock down here, and she explored the sewers regularly.

Zaalbar had been reluctant to leave her, ready to throw himself into the fray again and nevermind that they would restrain a wookiee slave far more securely than a mere twi'lek child. She had screamed for him to run, that she would be fine, and he had gone.

Her wookiee friend would be cursing himself for that now, she knew. But she had made him promise long ago not to throw away his life coming back for her in case of just such an event, and had to believe that his honour would hold him where his common sense would not.

The Jedi's lightsabers clashed just in front of her and she flinched involuntarily. She knew they wouldn't hit her, even if she decided to start dancing in the middle of the room. Their control of their blades, their flow in battle, they always knew exactly and precisely everything that was around them.

She, like the other slaves, had given up trying to convince the pair to free them all. Days of wheedling had bought her nothing, and they were obviously content with their arrangement. Whatever that was. The man 'Revan' disappeared for hours a day, while Bastila stared at her datapad screen. Then he returned and they practiced fighting each other with their lightsabers. This lasted until well past when the slaves usually went to sleep, forcing a new schedule upon them unless they were miraculously able to ignore the bright flashing lights and constant sizzling clashes of the two Jedi going at it.

Mission growled and resisted the urge to hurl her device at the wall. It wasn't working, but it was better than nothing. She tucked it under her 'pillow' and laid down, watching the spectacle. It was more entertaining than anything else in their lives, she had to admit. It normally wasn't everyday you saw a pair of Jedi practicing, and each with a double-ended lightsaber at that. One of the rarest styles of fighting, that was.

Back and forth, they surged and flowed, dancing lightly, striking heavily. Circling, jumping, coming up just short of a wall, just shy of the ceiling, their deadly sabers never touching their opponent's body or their surroundings, only clashing, sizzling, flashing. It might as well be a choreographed performance, but it was always different. Always shifting. No two nights the same.

When Revan slowed, Bastila slowed to meet him. When Revan sped up, Bastila increased her tempo to match.

Mission sat up, watching the fight with narrowed eyes. Yes, Bastila was the superior fighter. Under serious circumstances, Mission would have said she was toying with her opponent, but it was obvious that something else flowed between them.

The Force, probably, that mystical power that set Jedi apart from mere mortals. The power shared by their dark opposites, the Sith. Mission shuddered. If there was one thing worse than being a gamorrean slave, it would be capture by the Sith. Everyone had heard the stories.

She lay back down, her epiphany fading to another useless fact in the back of her mind. So what if Bastila was a superior fighter? The weird Jedi weren't going to help them. They weren't going to do anything but what they always did.

Mission closed her eyes, envisioned the lock and her device for cracking it. She was doing something wrong, just had to figure out what.

 _—=====—_

Bastila sat beside Revan, both of them breathing a bit heavily from their evening's exertion. Revan was improving, slowly, steadily. His body's muscle memory needed time and practice to build up, though his mind and instincts knew what to do.

The explorer Nile Chan had been, prior to the Council reshaping him, knew nothing of the Force or wielding a lightsaber. Bastila suspected that the reborn Revan would now be an excellent shot with a blaster, should the opportunity or need arise. The way his hands moved, quick to the saber hilt, the way he had at first tried to hold it, it all pointed to instincts for blaster usage. Which made sense, the frontiers of space were never safe for lone travelers.

"How long do you think it will be before Malak gives up and leaves?" she asked.

Revan pursed his lips, tilted his head in a half-shrug. "No more than a few weeks. He's impatient, easily distracted from the long term by brief fixation, but not a complete fool."

He fell silent. Bastila cast about for another topic of discussion. Revan wasn't the type to initiate idle chatter, but he would carry on a conversation without complaint.

"What do you make of the gamorreans' ship?" she asked.

"Servicable enough. Slow, heavy. They must have a servicer on Sleheyron, because that tub is loaded with much more sophisticated equipment than grunts like these would know how to use. They'd blown a shield conduit switch and didn't even notice. That would've been sucking down power like crazy, keeping the rear deflectors at full constantly."

The inflection of his voice was different when he talked about ships and repairs. Not quite an accent, Bastila couldn't place the exact change. It disconcerted her a little, forced her to think about how Revan had been rebuilt using someone else's life.

And that always brought her thoughts back to all the time they were _wasting_ here in a gamorrean slave pen when they should be out helping with the war.

"Why is Malak so powerful?" she asked without thinking. "How does he find new ships, new supporters, so quickly."

"The Star Forge's output speed is unrivaled," Revan replied. "He'll never be wanting for _ships_. Or droids. The supporters, though. . ." He pursed his lips. "Probably threats, promises of power, and utilizing sheer greed. It's amazing the sort of bribes you can offer with such a high-speed production line."

Bastila blinked at his conversational tone. Had he just casually revealed the source of Malak's fleet as though it were common knowledge?

"The Star Forge?" she asked, hesitantly.

"It was ancient, crafted with perfect mastery of the Dark Side. . ." he hesitated, eyes drifting away to stare into the middle distance. "It tried to corrupt me, I think it may have succeeded with Malak. I couldn't get away from it fast enough, once we finally got it set to start building ships, but he kept finding excuses to visit again. Inspections, calibrations. . ." Revan shook his head. "I should have stopped him, but I was too busy, too distracted. And I wanted to stay away from it, so I didn't argue. I should have seen sooner."

He fell silent, and this time Bastila did not attempt to restart the conversation.

This changed everything.


	8. Freedom of Thought

_Author's Note: Bonus update for May the Fourth~ Happy Star Wars Day everyone!  
_

* * *

 ** _Leviathan, Taris, AR: day 18_**

* * *

The Jedi prisoner knelt in her force-cage, fists pressed to the ground by her sides, head bowed, eyes closed. Her breathing was fast and even, and she hadn't moved for hours.

Jaq entered the room quietly, not hesitant, but not overly eager either. This one was different from his usual assignments. Apparently important enough that he'd been recalled specifically.

Jedi Knight Shalli Cora, captured aboard the Endar Spire, escort to Bastila Shan, and - inexplicably - master of the Dark Side of the Force.

He let his eyes drift over her kneeling form, a smirk forming on his lips. She wasn't bad looking, for a Jedi. And she still hadn't reacted to his presence. Lord Malak's report on her behavior had indicated that she was impulsive and violent in the extreme.

Then again, she'd been without food for days, perhaps she had no energy left for aggression.

"Hello, beautiful," he said, stepping closer. "I brought you something."

Her eyes opened, she tilted her head slowly up to meet his gaze. She was _quite_ attractive, he thought loudly, his smirk growing wider. He knelt beside the cage, pressed an anti-field against it, opening a small section to slip the water jug through. While she could, and would, continue without food for several more days, they didn't want her to die of dehydration before she could be assessed more carefully.

She was _strong_. A valuable potential asset, even without her advanced understanding of Dark Side techniques. Not something to be wasted.

He removed the anti-field device, returned to his feet.

"Do you want to be free?" she asked quietly.

"Huh?" Jaq had been about to leave, his thoughts quietly focused on an imaginary pazaak game. That had been a flip-four, so now the total was. . .

" _I_ want to be free," Shalli said, coming smoothly to her feet. She didn't waver despite her long, inactive imprisonment.

The Force yanked the anti-field from his belt, spun it through the air toward her.

Jaq scoffed. "That's not going to help anything, you know," he said. "The maximum size on that thing is about ten inches, and I doubt you're _that_ skinny."

He took another step toward the exit, then abruptly halted as Force closed around his throat, holding him. "Release me," the Jedi hissed, her voice cold threat. "Release me or I will. . ." He could _hear_ the sinister smile in her voice. "Do to you what you so enjoy doing to _them_."

Total seventeen. It would be a gamble, he only had a flip-five and minus-one, but seventeen was too easy to beat. He was ahead a round, so he could afford the gambit. He indicated he would take another card, passed the turn to his opponent. . .

Shalli laughed, a high laugh, almost sounding deranged. "You think you can keep me out with such _primitive_ trickery? I could recite every alias you have ever used, every desperate contingency plan you have for the future, _Atton Rand._ Your choices are simple. Join me, or suffer a very long time and then die."

Jaq couldn't reply, couldn't breathe. His opponent's card was dealt, coming to exactly twenty. Typical. His own card came up, five.

"I'm not a naturally patient person," the Jedi repeated. "And your breath will only last so long. Decide quickly."

He _did_ have a flip-five, but against a dealt twenty it was too much risk to spend a card on. He permitted the bust, his opponent scoring the round. One-to-one, a tie so far.

She released him, just long enough for him to gasp in a single desperate breath, then his throat constricted again.

"I'm waiting, _Atton_."

Two. Six. Seven-total-nine. Eight-total-fourteen. Ten-total-nineteen. He considered, then chose not to take another card. Nine-total-twenty-three. His opponent had three cards left to his two. They could more easily afford the round.

Electricity struck him from behind, a vibrating stunning shock that stung in a quick arc across his body, forcing him rigid, then ceased.

"I grow tired of these games," the Jedi said angrily. "Help me escape."

He would have laughed, but his lungs burned for lack of air. His back stung, his muscles ached.

His opponent played a minus-three, winning the round. One-to-two. Jaq couldn't lose again.

His mind was slowing, his vision starting to go dark. Panic rose in his chest, he lost his hold of the game, closed his eyes tight against the ache in his head.

He had heard what happened to deserters. Malak was _not_ forgiving. But what use was it to die here? There was no simple way to get the Jedi free, but he might be able to come up with a plan, escape with her.

No. Foolish.

But. . .

He gasped in another breath on sheer instinct, he hadn't noticed her release him, before he could think on it the pressure had returned. He didn't bother opening his eyes, what use would that be? Couldn't move, couldn't breathe. . .

She was right, he did have contingency plans, not that he would ever have admitted that even to himself. Nar Shaddaa was an easy place to lose yourself. Change your name and occupation, restyle your hair, replace your wardrobe, and no one would look twice.

 _How did she get in so deep so fast?_ he wondered. He always had his mental shielding up, it was second-nature to him. But somehow, she had wormed her way in, found things he had kept buried from everyone and anyone.

"I have watched you since you arrived, Atton," she whispered. "I sensed you the moment your ship emerged from hyperspace, the touch of unsparked potential, the quiet defiance that burns beneath your facade of easy compliance. It wouldn't take much to send you running. But with me, you can live with purpose. True purpose, not that imposed upon you by Malak and his army of fools."

Panic threatened to drown any reason, any coherence. She was in his mind _right now_. He shuddered, cold shivers running through him. Force powers were one thing, but the way the Jedi so casually invaded the minds of everyone around them had always felt unnatural to him. Wrong on a level deeper than merely breaking the physical laws of the universe.

Why was he even considering this alliance? She had no respect for anything, no more than Malak did.

Pressure tightened against his chest.

"Because I'm the one who could kill you with a thought," the Jedi whispered. "Choose."

For someone with no patience, she certainly was taking her time.

She laughed quietly behind him. "Because I have nothing to lose. If you want to continue standing here in pain, wondering if I'll permit you another breath, we can _play this game_ for hours. Malak is on his own ship, there is no camera, none of the other soldiers are brave enough to venture near me. No one will interrupt us. There is no reason for me to _force_ you to end your suffering quickly. My impatience will manifest in more frequent pain for you, but not your premature death."

 _Get out of my head!_ he thought with as much mental force as he could muster.

"And end this entertaining conversation before we reach a consensus? No, I think not. You know what I think? I think you secretly envy us. You, trapped in that one little mind. Split it in two, pretend to be another person, but you're still trapped. I can teach you, show you the vast network of thought beyond yourself. You could grow to love it as much as you now fear it."

Lightning crackled into him again, the instinct to gasp for air convulsed through him without providing any relief, his throat still held closed by her power. His head pounded.

"Don't think I'll let you evade the question by passing out," the Jedi continued. "I have no intention of letting you go that easily."

 _Why me?_ he wondered. There were dozens, hundreds, of weak-minded fools scattered through the ship. If her mental reach was so strong, why hadn't she just tricked one of them into freeing her?

"Because you have something they don't," she whispered almost lovingly. The tone in her voice made his skin crawl. "You have the _potential to be more_. Malak betrayed me, and I will destroy him for that. You are incomplete, unbroken, and your talents in mental control are incredible. If you combined your natural talent with a proper understanding of the Force, you could be a worthy replacement for him by my side."

She finally released his throat, allowed him to collapse to the ground rasping and coughing. He caught his breath, turned to face her. He knew that if he tried to leave she would only seize hold of him again.

She smiled at him, warmly, possessively. He shuddered again. "That's right, Atton," she said softly. "You begin to understand. You cannot escape _me_ , but we can escape Malak together. I should never have wasted my time with him. He was always too headstrong. You understand how to be a subordinate, but you also have such strong potential."

"What do you want?" he asked, hardly believing himself. But he had been in too many interrogations not to understand his position. Their roles had been inverted, and _he_ was the one without choices now. He didn't believe for a moment that he'd be able to outlast her if she decided to break him.

She spread her arms. "Release me. Find a ship on which we can escape. If once that is done you wish nothing more to do with me, we can part ways. You can run, hide, become a small insignificant creature on a crowded world of desperation and decay. Or you can learn your true potential by my side, join me in destroying my traitorous friend, and rule the galaxy subordinate only to me."

"I think I'll take the first option," Jaq said. "No offense, but I don't want to be any more involved with Jedi than I already am. A few years of being an insignificant nobody is just what I want."

She didn't try to stop him as he left this time, they both knew she didn't have to. Reluctant agreement though it may be, she had been within his mind and watching him too closely for it to be anything but genuine.

He would find a way for the two of them to escape, as ordered, and together they would flee Malak.

Shalli's laugh followed him out, somehow harsh and genuine at the same time. "When the time comes, Atton Rand," she called after him. "We will see what you decide."

He didn't reply, unsettled by the entire affair, but confident of one thing. She was not going to change his mind.

* * *

 _Author's Note the Second:_

 _I'm roughly using EU canon as the basis for this. Unlike Fall With Me where I have my own Exile, this will use the default Meetra Surik. And, as this chapter has made plain, I have no restraint against pulling in K2tSL characters right off if they fit the scene._

 _I believe I'll generally be alternating between the 'main' Revan, Nile Chan, and the other seven as they are introduced. Perspectives will be all over the place, split unevenly between the Revans and their companions. It's shaping up so far that each Revan will have only a single primary companion, though a few may fly it solo or gather a larger party.  
_

 _This is definitely my weirdest fic to date so far as structure goes. Hope it entertains anyway._


	9. War Bonds

_**Undercity Sewers, Taris, AR: day 20**_

* * *

Nile heard a disgusted sound, turned to see Bastila glaring at her datapad. She stood, brought the offending device over, shoved a _Taris Today_ newsfeed article under his nose.

 _Carth Onasi, Captured! Occupying forces rejoice!_

 _The rogue Republic officer was captured late last night, along with an unidentified Republic soldier, attempting to pass off outdated credentials while posing as a Sith patrol. Their motives are unclear at this time, but it is reported that they were seeking access to the notorious Undercity._

 _Hailed by the Republic as a 'great hero,' Onasi will reportedly be held at the Sith Military Base here on Taris until he can be transferred to Lord Malak's fleet for questioning._

 _The search for rogue Republic soldiers continues, but Tarisians can rest assured that our gracious Sith masters will soon bring this threat to its end, lifting the quarantine and allowing life to return to normal._

Nile read the article, tapped the datapad thoughtfully. "They don't know anything that could lead to us. Unless Malak comes here in person and senses us through the Force, we should still be safe here."

"Are we going to just stand by and allow them to be interrogated, and probably killed, by Malak's forces?" Bastila demanded.

"Between my strength as a strategist and your capacity for Battle Meditation, we are the two most important assets the Jedi can bring to bear against Malak." Nile pursed his lips, thinking. "Are you suggesting we abandon our cover here to rescue them?"

"We have to try _something_ ," Bastila said in a rush, then stopped. "We would have been captured or killed with the rest of the _Endar Spire_ 's crew if not for the many soldiers who rushed to our protection so heroically," she said more quietly. "If we are so important, don't we owe the few survivors something for that?"

Nile considered. Part of him, coolly calculating, insisted that there was no benefit in risking the two most important Jedi in the entire war effort merely to attempt rescue of a pair of grunts.

Another part, fainter, whispered that he needed to look out for himself and _only_ himself, that the galaxy was a harsh place with no room for sentiment.

The loudest mental voice, though, was that of his truest self, the Jedi who had rushed to the fore in the war against the Mandalorian threat, the Knight who would risk everything to save the Republic.

The _Jedi Revan_ insisted that Bastila was right. His life was valuable, as was hers, but the risk a few sith soldiers could pose to them was negligible. The threat was far outweighed by their _duty_.

"If we move fast and quietly, we have a decent chance," he said at length. "They haven't found us, which means that they have no Force-users of sufficient strength to detect our presence this far below their base. We will encounter resistance, and probably strong resistance, but I believe we could get in and out without being captured. Whether we can then escape without being followed is another matter."

Bastila nodded. "We can deal with that eventuality should it come to pass. When do we leave?"

Nile stood smoothly, tapped his lightsaber, began slowly pacing. "Soon. I've been meaning to ask you, what is the status of the war since I. . ." he veered away from thinking _since I died_ , "since Malak betrayed me? What time has passed, how are troop movements? Have any planets or sectors been taken?"

He felt a strange disconnect as he thought along these lines, _knowing_ that he had been fighting on the same side as Malak, against the Republic, but his loyalty was firmly fixed _with_ the Jedi Order. He frowned, lips tight, and tried to compartmentalize his conflicting mindsets. Jedi Revan, Darth Revan, Nile Chan. . . they were all him, but all different and with overlapping and _conflicting_ goals and memories.

"Taris has been hotly contested for weeks," Bastila said, her voice helping ground Nile in the present. "The Endar Spire and our reinforcements were supposed to be enough to break the siege, but Malak's reinforcements arrived a few days before us and in much greater number. He had the planet locked down, destroyed anyone trying to get news out, which is why we were unprepared and so easily overwhelmed."

Nile nodded. "And the rest of the warfront?"

"Onderon is hard pressed. They've finally requested Republic assistance, but we have little enough to give. I was scheduled to head that relief effort as well, before I was assigned to you."

"Is that where we are heading after we escape Taris?" Nile asked.

Bastila shrugged. "I can't say for sure. We've been here, ten days is it now? And no sign of this quarantine ending. I'm sure the war will have shifted by the time we are in a position to rejoin it. At this point, I'm probably as out-of-touch as you are."

Nile twirled his lightsaber hilt with a flourish, smiled with grim determination. "Perhaps the Sith Military Base will have more recent information."

Bastila came to stand beside him. "We're going now?"

The blue twi'lek slave who had been sitting behind them came to her feet. "I can help," she said quickly. "Take me with you."

Nire stared at her, taken aback. "You want to help us break into the Sith base? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

"I need to get a message to a friend," she said quietly. "And the base will have communications that aren't tracked."

"They will also be locked for Sith use," Nile pointed out.

The twi'lek grinned. "They haven't invented a computer system that can keep me out. Which is where I can help you. I'm sure you'll have a lot to do, keeping the Sith from catching you and your friends and all. I can get whatever information you need downloaded from their computers while you do whatever else you were planning to do there."

Nile glanced at Bastila. "I'm decent with a computer, but no expert," he said. "You?"

Bastila shook her head. "I am quite adept at utilizing them, but know next to nothing about hacking."

Nile returned his attention to the eager slave girl. "You sure you want to do this?"

She nodded firmly. "I'm sure. This is my one chance to get my message sent, and a chance to put a pair of Jedi in my debt. Win-win, right?"

Nile chuckled. "I would not say this arrangement puts us in your debt at all, considering that the gamorreans will surely demand reparations for our borrowing you for the mission. It sounds more like an even and fair exchange, to me."

The slave shrugged. "Worth a try," she said, grinning. "So what's the plan?"


	10. Introduction: Marin Dequery

_Scattered throughout the galaxy, they awakened._

 _Not by any design, or through any plan, awakened by the unshakable foundations of destiny, foundations laid by fools in search of power._

 _Power now held by the scattered failures, awakening to a new truth._

 _Their time had come._

* * *

 ** _AR: day 20_**

 ** _Jedi Temple, Coruscant_**

* * *

The woman called Marin Dequery awakened with a Jedi assassin standing over her bed.

This wasn't entirely unexpected, but neither was it pleasant. She'd long suspected the Jedi would try to have her eliminated. She screamed, lashing out with the Force to send the would-be assassin flying back. A normal man would be stunned by the Force of that scream, but this was a Jedi.

She pulled her saber to her hands and leaped out of bed ready to face her assailant, blankets landing in a tangle behind her.

She had just enough time to wonder why her blade had turned _blue_ and why she only had a single blade before the assailant's own golden-yellow saber ignited and crashed down against her blade in a sizzle of power. She stumbled back.

This was wrong. Where was she? _Who_ was she?

"The Force is strong with you today," her assailant grunted, breaking the saber-lock by ducking aside and bringing the gold blade around in an arc.

But she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of such an easy escape. Instead of blocking, she charged. Ducking under the swing, she deactivated her saber and tossed it aside, grappling him around the waist and throwing him off balance.

Fury rose up in her. Before he could recover, she straightened, took a quick step back, and screamed again. The sound echoed through the room, more than a sound. She held it, focused all her will into the sound and Force. Her opponent trembled, then collapsed to the ground.

She stood a moment, panting. Reaching out with the Force, she pulled her own saber and his to her hands, flicked them on with a smooth practiced movement. One blade in each hand. Two sabers. It felt right, though the colours did not.

She glanced down at him, then around at the room. This was wrong. Where was she? _Coruscant?_ But she had graduated from the Temple years ago. She had fought in the Mandalorian wars. What was she doing back in the students' quarters?

"Uhh, Marin, when did you learn _that_?" the man on the floor asked, groaning as he pushed himself up on his elbows. "Can I have my saber back?"

She frowned, brought the golden glow closer to examine his face. He didn't look familiar.

"What did you call me?" she demanded, glaring down at him.

"Marin?" he said, obviously confused. "That's your name. Remember?"

"No," she said firmly. "I am. . ." she tilted her head, deactivating the lightsabers and taking a step back. "I am. . ."

"Marin," the attacker insisted. He made to stand, but she snapped her lightsaber back on and aimed at his face before he could get to his feet. He fell back, hands raised in front of him. "Woh, woah, Marin, it's just me. I get it, you beat me."

"This is wrong," she said firmly. She strode across the room, spun to stare at him suspiciously. "Get out."

He scrambled to his feet. "Can I have my saber?"

"No. It is mine now."

"But Marin—" he whined.

"Leave."

He grumbled under his breath, but he left.

She deactivated her saber, slid them both into her sash. Whatever she was doing back at the Jedi Temple, she didn't plan to stay here long. Malak needed her if their conquest was ever to succeed.

She strode confidently through the familiar halls, ignoring the students who tried to talk to her. Was her ship here? If not, she could always commandeer one. Coruscant always had plenty of ships.

She traversed the broad entry chamber, mouthing the name 'Marin' over and over. It didn't instinctively feel right, but the more she said it the better it sounded.

Yes, Marin. That was her. That had always been her. Malak and Marin. That was right.

Her partner needed her now. He wanted Bastila, but Marin knew the prissy Jedi too well. She would never fall to the dark side. She would never be willing to do what was needed to rule the galaxy properly. Only if you broke her first, which would take all the purpose out of it.

Bastila may have battle meditation, but Marin had something better.

Loyalty.

She activated her sabers, yellow and blue, adjusted the lengths to her reach. Though her first instinct was to hate the colours, the longer she stared at them the more she grew to appreciate them.

Marin. Blue and yellow.

Yes. This was right.

A Jedi tried to stop her. She didn't slow, enveloped herself in a field of Force that pushed away any trying to reach her. It was a complicated technique, a difficult one. One she had never learned, one she did not remember using before.

It tinted the world dark, just a faint shift, just enough to let her know that she was protected.

It was an inversion, the opposite of crushing a person. She knew that instinctively. Something she had created, taught to only a few. That, she remembered.

Malak was not one of them. That, she regretted.

Marin exited the temple, descended the vast stairs to the busy streets of Coruscant. First a speeder, then a ship. She knew ships, knew them better than anyone in her class. She'd always had an affinity for mechanical things.

 _(At least, now she had.)_

"I'm coming, Malak," she whispered. "Don't waste your time on Bastila. Wait for me."

* * *

 _Profile Notes : Marin Dequery is a bit hefty, mostly muscle but tended to overeat a bit. She has medium-dark skin, light hazel eyes, and black cornrow hair to her shoulders decorated with blue and silver glass beads. _  
_Light-dark ratio: 35-65_  
 _Key traits: loyalty_  
 _Favoured Weapon: Dual Lightsabers_  
 _Outfit: Padawan Robes_


	11. Thoughts of Vengeance

**_AR: day 20_**

 ** _Leviathan, Taris_**

* * *

Shalli Cora stepped out of the shorted-out force cage with a sense of relief she hadn't realized she would possess. She reached up as far as she could, encountering no resistant force. Stretched her arms out in front of her, to the sides. Leaned back, reached forward, stretching out all her muscles that had been aching for freedom during her weeks spent imprisoned.

Atton had finally returned, with a clever plan to reroute power away from her cage long enough that a steady blast of Force lightning could short out its backup power and release her. She was gratified to find that her new apprentice was as clever as she'd expected.

She did feel more than a little irritation that it had taken him so _long_. She'd recruited him _days_ before he finally came up with something, by which time she was _very_ hungry and quite done with the one jug of water he'd brought her.

Shalli did _not_ want to beg for food or drink from her supposed captors, so she remained stoic and did not contact Atton again.

She had _watched_ him, of course, kept close attention on his thoughts in case he changed his mind about working with her, but he was onto her now. He knew she would be watching, and reminded himself of it any time he started considering the alternatives of helping her.

She'd been sure to reinforce those certainties, shearing into his thoughts with complete dominance that defied distance. In case he should get it in his head that he could just escape her range and be free.

Force Lightning required near proximity. Force Choke did not. Nor did mental manipulation, so long as one could meditate properly.

It had worked. Atton had remained convinced that he was at her mercy however far he tried to go, so he didn't try to go.

And now, she was free.

Shalli blasted the empty room with lightning, laughing with the exuberant joy of _freedom_ and power and the knowledge that she had outwitted her foolish former apprentice under his very nose.

And now she had a new apprentice, waiting for her with a shuttle. She Pushed the door open and strode from the room, her legs only mildly protesting the quick pace. The few unfortunate Sith soldiers she encountered on the way were lucky if they survived the encounter. None delayed her, and few lived to tell of her passing.

Atton's mind was tight with anxiety, his every instinct warring between abandoning her and just fleeing, versus the clear repercussions of betrayal.

He wouldn't dare. She had the measure of him too well, and he knew it. His only chance for survival, slim though it seemed to him, was with her.

She smiled to herself again. She so loved having servants who really understood their own place in the galaxy. The ones who didn't really comprehend just how much power she had over them inevitably ended up doing something foolish and dying.

Shalli reached the shuttle without incident.

Atton was waiting for her, impatient, worried.

"Don't be so uptight," Shalli said, relaxing into the copilot seat. "Set our course to these coordinates."

Atton's expression tightened as he input the directions she gave him. "There's nothing there, it's unknown space."

"Wrong," Shalli corrected, grinning. "It's my greatest discovery. A long-forgotten relic of the power of an ancient civilization. I let Malak have far too free a rein with its use. That is about to change. Time I took back my rightful supremacy. With you at my side, rather than that ungrateful _fool_ I once called _friend_."

"Once we're in the clear, you promised I could leave," Atton said. "That I could become a worthless no-one on Nar Shaddaa and not worry about Jedi, light or dark, insane or otherwise."

Shalli shrugged. "Once you deliver me to my destination, I wouldn't stop you. I don't know how to fly _this_ clunky Republic-holdover shuttle, but the Star Forge can create me new ships that I'll understand intimately." She closed her eyes, imagining the power she would wield, then frowned. The engines weren't running, and the ship didn't seem to be moving. "Well? Why aren't we leaving?"

"This shuttle doesn't have a hyperdrive," Atton said. "It will take us centuries to reach your destination in this."

Lightning crackled around Shalli's fingertips and she directed it into the shuttle's window, where it splashed and sparked harmlessly across the transparasteel. "Then take us somewhere we can _get_ a ship with a hyperdrive. Do I have to think of everything for you? And here I thought you had a _modicum_ of intellect."

"We haven't any money," Atton said, grinning at her insolently. "Where do you propose—"

Shalli directed the next blast of electricity into Atton's body, watched him stiffen and hiss in a breath.

"I don't _need_ money, you idiot. Just take us to the nearest planet with a starport, and do your best not to irritate me further. I've had a very trying week. And is there anything to eat aboard this miserable excuse for a ship?"

"I didn't check," Atton replied, punching in the ignition sequence. "Help yourself to anything you find."

Shalli leaned back and started opening panels with the Force, hoping to find a stash of rations. Nothing presented itself, the shuttle seemed empty. She sighed, closed her eyes again. That too could wait. Her body may be weak, but the Force never was.

Her mind flicked back to Atton. He was _remarkably_ good at compartmentalizing his mind. She'd hurt him not a minute before, but his thoughts were already back to strictly professional, his focus tight and unwavering, calculating their location and the nearest planets.

He decided on a destination, set in the course.

Shalli smiled. She'd been watching him for several days now, since he first came to begin his 'interrogation' of her. He broke Jedi, that was his position with the Sith. A non-Force grunt but good at what he did. She knew better. Sensed the tiny spark of power within him, lying dormant, hidden beneath loathing and fear and uncertainty, beneath the constant shifting charade that he pretended was himself. He could be so much more.

If she had her way, he would. She needed a new partner, a loyal apprentice to replace the traitor Malak. And Atton seemed to be just exactly what she wanted. At least, if he could get over that stubborn insistence on hating anyone who used the Force.

Shalli leaned back and closed her eyes again. She'd always been best at long-term plans. The journey would not be wasted, she would watch and consider and determine the best method for shifting her new apprentice's mind. Safely, quietly, so that he wouldn't even notice he was being manipulated.

Patience had never been one of her strongest virtues, but she could hold herself in check when the greater plan depended upon it. She sighed quietly, made a determination not to torture, choke, or electrocute him for at least a few weeks. That sort of thing _usually_ had a detrimental effect on people's inclinations to trust you.

Though Malak might have been willing. He seemed the right sort. She couldn't quite recall why she'd never tried with him. They were always so busy, but surely she could have found the time?

No, that was not important. Malak was history. A traitor. She _would_ hurt him next time she set eyes on him, though she had no desire to seek him out. That chapter was over. Atton was her future. Well, him. . . and the Star Forge.

Lacking her guidance and help, Malak would soon find his fine Sith empire crumbling from within. And then she would exert pressure from behind, holding the Star Forge itself against him. She smiled at the thought, dear little _foolish_ Malak would soon know the danger in crossing his friends.

Malak would regret betraying her.

If she never saw his face again, still she would burn his empire down around his metallic ears.


	12. Intent to Rescue

**_AR: day 20_**

 ** _Sith Base, Taris_**

* * *

Bastila, Mission, and Revan walked boldly into the Sith base's camera view. Mission waved her blaster and called out for assistance, while Bastila pretended to be restrained by a neural band which was, in actuality, only servivng to reinforce her own mental state.

Revan stood behind her, holding his vibroblade to her back. With Mission's help, the two of them had dressed for their part as mercenaries, to turn over their 'captive' Jedi prisoner.

It was a pathetically _foolish_ attempt at a feint, and Bastila was absolutely certain that it would end in disaster. But their only other option involved far more complications and time they couldn't afford to waste. Trask and Carth could be transported off planet if they took too long, and then it would be beyond foolish to even try rescuing them.

She knew Revan wouldn't agree to that. It had been hard enough convincing him to play along with this plan.

Bastila walked mechanically, keeping her drifting gaze unfocused, her body relaxed and casual. Her lightsaber was concealed in her long boot, but could be pulled free with the help of the Force at a moment's notice.

Revan's was harder to conceal. The Sith Lord he'd taken it from had not been the sort to use understated or simple designs, so unlike Bastila's it was longer, wider, and with enough ornamental spikes that it would not slide comfortably anywhere.

Mission carried it for now, clipped to her own belt as though it were Bastila's. Revan had not liked being parted from the weapon, but it was necessary.

"Come on, open up!" Mission shouted. "We've got a bounty to collect on."

"Wait here, someone will be out shortly," came the curt reply through a speaker.

They waited. Finally the door opened and a uniformed man stepped out, a datapad held casually in one hand. A dozen armored Sith soldiers followed him, spread out to surround the 'prisoner'.

"This Jedi was trying to hide in the lower city," Mission told them brightly. "My partner and I have contacts with the swoop gangs there, and we were able to ambush her before she could flee the planet. I hear there's a sizeable reward for Jedi?"

The man smiled, nodded eagerly. "Is that her lightsaber?" he asked, nodding to the weapon on Mission's belt.

"Money first," Revan growled. "If you want the saber too, that'll cost extra. It wasn't part of the bounty listing, and we know plenty of people who would pay gladly to get their hands on one."

The Sith nodded, raised his hand to motion his soldiers forward. "Bring her into custody." He held up his datapad, tapped in numbers. "Your account ID?"

Mission rattled off a string of numbers and letters, which the Sith tapped in as fast as she spoke. It wasn't theirs, of course, belonging to an actual bounty hunting duo who would be surprised at their sudden fortune. Or misfortune, if the Sith decided to retaliate against them for what happened next.

The Sith soldiers took Bastila toward the elevator and she moved without resisting. Revan started to follow, the Sith moved to stop him. "You have your payment, now give me the lightsaber."

Bastila stood, surrounded by a half dozen soldiers, feeling how the Force rippled gently around them all. They were not paying much attention to their obviously subdued Jedi prisoner, watching the confrontation between their leader and the bounty hunter.

She waited, poised on the edge of action.

"We need to be sure you have proper holding facilities," Revan said. "We couldn't hand her over if you'll just let her get away, that would be bad for our reputation."

The Sith captain laughed. "That's ridiculous. We have been subduing Jedi far longer than your amateur outfit. Now hand it over and be gone with you, our business has no reason to take up any more of our time."

The Force swirled, surged. "I insist you escort us to your holding facilities," Revan instructed.

The Sith captain didn't seem convinced. Bastila turned, this was going to be risky, but she had no choice. Revan's ability to persuade with the Force was amateur compared to her own. She brought her hands up in front of her, bound together of course, and spoke softly. "You are running out of time."

The soldiers around her snapped their attention back to her, no longer looking so completely subdued.

"This won't hold forever, and the fastest way to be rid of these hunters is to comply with their demands."

"Shut up!" one of the soldiers said, watching her hands nervously. "She's trying to use her magics on us!"

"We'll comply with the hunters' demands, it's the fastest way to be rid of them," the captain said. Bastila sighed with relief. At least they didn't have to engage in violent conflict just yet.

The soldiers watched her warily, though she fell back into her imitation of limp uncertainty as though she'd expended all her effort on those sentences. But they were not going to underestimate her now.

She wished Revan were better at mental Force manipulation, his attempt had really been quite pathetic.

They all crowded into the elevator, and though this would be a good time to thin their numbers by convincing them to travel in two shifts they wouldn't be able to do so without arousing a lot more suspicion.

Though it hadn't gone _quite_ according to plan, they were still on their way into the Sith base.

Then Bastila froze, her facade of weakness forgotten as she sensed a dark presence ahead of her. Somewhere in this base a practitioner of the Dark Side waited for them. And if she could sense him, it wouldn't be long before he sensed _her_.

The Sith captain gave a code sign to the receptionist, who buzzed them through the first set of doors. Down a brightly-lit corridor, past guard droids and turrets, they came to a large room secured with double layers of blast doors. Inside were a row of force cages, each large enough for a single occupant. Three were occupied; Carth Onasi, Trask Ulgo, and an ithorian that Bastila hadn't seen before. Probably captured for unrelated reasons.

"You see? Our facilities are completely secure against Jed—"

Bastila brought her lightsaber to her hand with a quick pull of the Force, while Mission unclipped Revan's and tossed it to him in the same instant. Though they'd been waiting for any sign of resistance from their prisoner, the Sith soldiers were _not_ anticipating their bounty hunters to turn on them, especially not with a lightsaber in hand.

The element of surprise was just enough to give the advantage. By the time the soldiers opened fire or grabbed their vibroblades, the group was already splintered and separated. They were unable to form a united front, and quickly realized as much, dropping their weapons and backing away at Revan's command. Mission crossed to the control console, sliced in, and opened the force cages.

"You came back for us," Carth said, sounding surprised. "Why? It's our job to protect _you_."

"Lord Revan and I are not unappreciative of your sacrifices, and those of the rest of the _Endar Spire_ 's crew. The risk was minimal. Come, we have to hurry."

The surviving soldiers who had surrendered were relocated _into_ the force cages, which Mission reactivated. They'd be a bit cramped, as the cages were not designed to hold multiple people, but at least they were proper sized cell cages and not the standing interrogation style ones with barely room to sit.

Warning rippled through the Force. Bastila knew they had come to the end of their streak of easy fortune.

"A Dark Force adept," she whispered. "He is coming."

"I'll hold him off," Revan said, twirling his crimson lightsaber. Its glowing blades made a hissing _thrum_ as they swung through the air.

"He won't be caught off guard like those you fought on the ship," Trask pointed out. "Do you want backup?"

"No. You four get out. I'll join you back at the hideout when I can."

Bastila hesitated. "But, Lord Revan, we can't just leave you here."

Revan turned, stared firmly at them. "I can do this. Go. I _will_ rejoin you."

Bastila nodded, turned to follow Mission. They had one more room to break into, the control room, and it was sure to be guarded as well. As much as she wanted to stay behind and protect Revan, she had to escort the others to safety first.

But that didn't mean she would run away. Once they were safely away, she had every intention of returning. Lord Revan was _her_ responsibility and she would _not_ allow him to be killed or captured. That would mean utter disaster for everyone involved. Without him, without _both_ of them, the Republic would be doomed.


	13. Minnow and Leviathan

**_AR: day 20_**

 ** _Leviathan, Taris_**

* * *

The shuttle lifted from the bay floor as Shalli ate her way through the meager supplies on board. After weeks of imprisonment she was weary of using the Dark Side alone to sustain herself. Though basic ships' rations were hardly better, and she'd practically had to tear the ship apart to locate the miserably small stash.

"The bay doors aren't opening," Atton called back from where he sat in the pilot's seat. "I transmitted the proper code, they must be doing a lockdown or drill of some kind. We'll have to wait it out."

"No," Shalli said, rising to her feet and crossing to the window. "I will open them. Be ready. This will not go unnoticed."

Reaching out with the dark power of the Force, she grabbed the bay door and began to pry it open. The automatic forcefield sprang into existence over the gap. It held air in, but wouldn't stop their ship departing.

The metal squealed in sharp protest as it began crumpling under the strain. Shall crushed it back, pressing on itself, her power shining eagerly as she held the massive doors and pulled them farther apart.

* * *

The section twelve shuttle bay alarms began blaring, the first hint that something was wrong. Saul Kareth turned from his strategic reports he was compiling for Lord Malak, brought up the Leviathan schematics overlay.

"Report, sections eight through twelve," he ordered into his com.

"Section eight, reporting." The officer's voice crackled only as much as normal.

There was silence. Saul waited, frowned at the map, tapped up the cameras. The shuttle bay doors were opening without command, but they hadn't been hacked. They were being forced open, as though someone was prying them apart with unimaginable strength.

"Sections nine through twelve, report," he repeated, his tone sharper.

Silence.

Section nine was prisoner holding. Sections ten and eleven included weapon storage and maintenance areas.

He cursed, jabbed the panel and rapidly called up the link to the Domination. "Lord Malak, something's gone wrong. I think the prisoner may have escaped. What are your instructions?"

It would take time for the message to reach Lord Malak, more time for his reply to arrive. And if the Jedi prisoner escaped, Lord Malak would be extremely displeased. Saul couldn't afford to wait.

"Section four, we have an emergency situation in the shuttle bay. Send reinforcements immediately!"

"Admiral, is this really necessary?" The Dark Jedi on the other end of the line sounded bored and mildly irritating. "You continue bothering us with these petty matters, our training—"

"Lord Malak's Jedi prisoner is escaping," Saul snapped. "There's no time for your complaints, get down to shuttle bay twelve _now_!"

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the com. "Orders?"

"Capture alive if possible, but under no circumstances is she to be allowed to escape," Saul said. "Now get there now."

"Acknowledged, section four out." The Dark Jedi sounded much more respectful this time.

Saul returned his attention to the readout and security camera. The shuttle hummed, ready to flee, as the doors scraped open inch by inch. He flipped open the elevator and hallway cams, rewound to be sure of his conclusions. He'd jumped to an assumption based on very little information. He was usually correct, but always preferred to verify his information if he had the time.

He had nothing else to do, orders had been given, messages sent. Nothing better to do.

He frowned. The Jedi prisoner wasn't escaping alone. Jaq, one of Malak's personal Jedi-breakers, one of the most loyal soldiers in the entire Sith army? Why would _he_ be helping the Jedi? He'd never had even a hint of remaining loyalty to the Republic, and no Jedi sympathies. He seemed to enjoy destroying them, and he certainly was good at it.

Saul's conundrum was interrupted by a quiet beep, signaling the reply from _Domination_. He nodded, and the message played.

"The Jedi prisoner is of no consequence, Admiral Kareth. Kill her. Your focus is to be on locating Bastila, and ensuring she doesn't escape Taris."

"Understood, Lord Malak," Saul replied, then closed the channel. He relayed the orders to the Dark Jedi, sent instructions to his gunners and ordered a squadron of fighters out to guard against the shuttle's escape.

This particular minnow would not escape _Leviathan_.

* * *

Shalli sensed the Dark Jedi coming, knew their time was limited. It took the Force no time at all to cripple a shuttle.

"Go, now," she ordered, straining to pull the massive doors open far enough to let the shuttle out. It would be tight, but better to lose a stabilising wing and have trouble landing than for the Dark Jedi to trap them.

Atton started forward, slowly, trying to give her time to get the doors open far enough.

"Just _go_!" she snapped. "Fast, now!"

He powered the ship fully, sent it scraping through the narrow opening, winced as alarms started blaring. But they were proximity and minor damage alerts, nothing serious.

Shalli released the power holding the doors open, let them crash shut. Crumpled and forced out of shape, they didn't meet in the middle. One was folded over on itself so many times it sent sparks flying as it screeched along its track.

"Incoming fighters," Atton reported. "Can your Force do anything about those?"

Shalli shook her head. "Not from here. Does this thing have weapons?"

"Just a nose gun, 60 degree arc. It'll be tricky to line up shots and still get anywhere."

"Then I'll do what I can. Fly us close to the fighters."

"Close? Are you mad?"

"I can destroy them with the Force, but only at a near range," Shalli retorted. "Do it."

Atton sighed, turned the shuttle toward the oncoming fighters. They rattled off spreads of laser fire, the attacks sizzling against the shuttle's shields, flashing lights filling the view.

Shalli closed her eyes and paced behind Atton's seat, drew the Force into herself, reached out for the irritating fighters that dared try to stop her.

As each broke off its attack run and swung to go just around the shuttle, she closed the Force around them and crushed them. She didn't have time to do it carefully or precisely, so three of the six fighters were still spaceworthy despite her attack. Only one exploded, her compressing Force hitting it at the right angle to light up the engine, but the one without stabilizers spun off and away. The third, now lacking front windows and protected from the vacuum of space only by its thin shield, turned to limp back to the _Leviathan_.

The fighters came back around for a second pass, and Shalli unconsciously bared her teeth as she concentrated. They didn't come so close this time, wary, but they weren't careful enough. She grabbed one in her Force grip, pulled it off its course and sent it hurtling it into a second. Their shields sizzled out, never designed to protect from close impact of that magnitude, and the two fighters exploded in a brief flash of light and debris.

One remained, and as it flew past the ship toward the front Atton deftly swung the shuttle around and fired the nose-gun in a tight burst.

The first several shots pinged off the fighter's shield, but the shuttle's weapon was heavy enough to punch through. Shalli wondered if Atton were really that good, or if he subconsciously was reading the Force to know what to do and when to do it. He wasn't drawing on it, she could tell that much, but even passive observation of the Force could give significant advantages.

"What planet is that?" Shalli demanded, pointing to the blue-grey world that loomed nearby.

"Taris," Atton replied. "There should be plenty of spaceworthy ships there, if we don't get blown out of the sky first."

"Then take us there at once. I don't intend to give Malak another chance to capture me, and I have a Star Forge to reclaim."

Atton had barely turned them toward the planet when dozens more fighters came swarming out from _Leviathan_. Shalli closed her eyes and submerged herself in the Force, grinning with exhilaration and the thrill of battle.

She hadn't had so much fun in a long time.


	14. Introduction: Jack Khan

_Scattered throughout the galaxy, they searched._

 _Not by any design, nor at a whim. Each grew aware of an absence that needed to be filled. Someone was missing from their lives, someone they did not all remember but could not ignore._

 _Connections formed long ago, connections made only recently, lines of energy that held all things together, bound them more tightly than the rest of the galaxy. They all searched for the same thing._

 _But not all in the same way._

* * *

 ** _Night Flit, Manaan, AR: day 19_**

* * *

The man called Jack Khan awakened at the controls of his ship, alarms blaring that he had been hit.

Glancing frantically across the single-person fighter's array of lights and indicators, he quickly assessed the damage. Lost engine, no shields, and the circuits connecting to the landing gear were fried.

He was going down, and it wasn't going to be a pretty landing.

What planet _was_ this, again? He'd been hired to come to these coordinates, but Sith shooting him down tended to distract from reading the briefing.

Blue. Nothing but blue on blue with more blue. Great, an ocean world. He glanced about the compartment for anything that would help him survive an ocean landing, but nothing came immediately to mind. He would sink, that was certain, this baby was too heavy and not designed for water landings. He'd probably survive to a moderate depth, space ships were watertight of course, but the pressure might do him in.

At least he had food enough for a week or so, if he wasn't crushed. He grinned, angled his controls just enough that he'd go skipping across the ocean surface. If he had to go down, might as well see how many hops he could manage first.

Eight, nine, ten. . . then the ship's nose hit the water at too low an angle and he started to sink.

A nice even number of skips, at least.

Jack leaned back in his seat as the ship spiraled down into the depths, enjoying what may be his last moments. Sharks fled before the sinking intrusion, small fishes swam away.

Then he sat upright, staring out into the darkness. There was a _light_ over there. Off in the distance, just ahead and to the left.

He grinned. There might be hope for him to survive this yet. Gunning the engines, which were definitely _not_ designed for underwater usage, he steered against the drag of the water and the planet's gravity, the ship whining and screeching.

It would overheat soon, he knew, but he was almost there. . .

A huge fish loomed in front of him. It screamed, echoing through his mind and his soul. It was a cry of rage, a plea for help, a demand that he GO AWAY AND NEVER RETURN.

He threw up Force barriers instinctively, shielding himself from the overpowering strength of that unnatural shriek. _Where was a lightsaber when you needed one?_

Then his ship crashed through a heavy glass window, moving with enough momentum to shatter the reinforcements and let the ocean crash in. Alarms immediately started going off as the nearest door in the facility slammed shut against the inrushing water. It was a large facility, from what little he could make out in the darkness.

He holstered his guns - they were both custom models, an electric-ion for popping droids and an energy-disruptor for everything else - put on his space suit, and gathered his few remaining possessions into an airtight hovercrate. He checked over the place one last time - once he opened the door, his little ship would be done for. That much water wouldn't play nice with it.

Jack was surprised his ship had lasted this long, patted the control panel fondly. "It was a good run, girl," he said aloud, then turned and silently hoped his space suit would be sufficient against the water outside. He stared out the window a long moment, assessing what he could of his surroundings.

He had to get through into the main facility somehow, without being trapped in a sealed off room. He could slice a computer security system better than most, but being underwater tended to interfere with such efforts. He moved to the other side of the little ship, looked out back toward the open ocean. The facility seemed to have another wing - how big _was_ this place?

If he failed to get in through here, he could look for an external airlock. An underwater base would be sure to have at least a few of them, there would be little purpose in building a base underwater without being able to get in and out. Whatever its purpose here, they wanted access to the ocean floor.

 _ **LEAVE ME ALONE-**_

 _ **HELP ME-**_

 _ **GO AWAY-**_ _ **  
**_

The roaring sound echoed through his mind and soul as words, concepts. He flinched back, reinforced his mental defences. It was such a conflicted scream, power and threat, helplessness and fear.

He reached for the release on his ship's ramp, but hesitated. Beyond the mental scream, he felt something else. Something familiar, that trembled on the edge of his memory. Something about _stars_.

He turned involuntarily, glanced toward where the scream of rage originated. Though he was blocking it as strongly as he could, it still echoed quietly through his mind every moment, wordlessly.

He shivered. He had to find a way out of here as quickly as possible. A facility like this would probably have sea-craft capable of reaching the surface, from there he'd be able to arrange passage away.

Jack turned, one final time, to survey his ship. Soon to be lost forever, as the fees for hauling a space ship from the deepest part of the ocean would not be cheap. Between the cost of replacing nearly everything inside and the expense of getting it above-water in the first place, it would be easier just to acquire a new ship.

He took a deep breath, pressed the release. The door groaned as it tried to open against the outside pressure, water began seeping around the cracks where it had moved just enough. The door moved farther, the water rushed in faster. Jack braced himself, kept a tight hold on his hovercrate. Then the water reached his face, he was submerged completely, his ship was flooded but for the very top inch or so. The door swung down the rest of the way, and he stepped down the ramp into the flooded facility.

He saw an injured selkath at once, one arm pinned to the far wall by the underside of Jack's ship. He winced, started over toward him. "Hold still, I'll get you out of this," he said, the space suit making his voice echo strangely through the water.

The selkath only snarled and hissed, clawing toward Jack as though wanting to rip his head right off.

Jack paused, didn't approach within reach. "I can help get you free, but you have to relax and let me get close, okay?"

The selkath didn't reply, started wrenching against the weight of the ship as though trying to _tear_ itself free. Jack winced. "If you don't calm down, you'll rip your arm right off! Relax, calm down, and I can get you free."

Then the shrieking bellow repeated from the distance, and the Selkath echoed it so perfectly that Jack took an involuntary step away.

"Ah, well, I'll leave you to it then," he said, suddenly certain that something was _very_ wrong here.

He would find his own way inside, and he would do his best to avoid _anyone_ once there. He could still feel the hatred and fear and desperation rippling across his mind. Jack could protect himself for now, but others - like that unfortunate selkath - could be completely overwhelmed. And when the only thing in your mind is a desperate scream like that. . .

He was suddenly glad he hadn't been able to get near. The selkath would have probably ripped his suit to shreds, ripped _him_ to shreds, and gone on to laugh and scream until the sharks came to eat them both.

He shuddered, then started off toward the distant other building of the facility. Perhaps he could get inside without trouble. Just then, he wanted very much to escape without encountering any additional problems. He still was under contract for a delivery, had to find a replacement ship, and that was just assuming he could return to the surface safely.

Unfortunately, his gut instinct was that he was completely surrounded by trouble, and that more would find him before he reached the surface.

Jack sighed once, then shrugged off his concern. Trouble was annoying, true, but it also made life _so_ much more interesting.

* * *

 _Profile Notes_ _: Jack Khan has dark skin, short black hair, dark brown eyes, and a cheery disposition. He's very average in size and strength, but well above average with a blaster or a ship's controls. Typical sci-fi swashbuckler._  
 _Light-dark ratio: 50-50_  
 _Key traits: curiosity, playfulness_  
 _Favoured Weapon: Dual blaster pistols_  
 _Outfit: Merc vest-outfit_


	15. Power and Force

**AR: day 20**

 **Sith Base, Taris**

* * *

Nile stood, the hilt of his saberstaff held steady in his hand. Bastila and the others were moving up the elevator, fading from his limited Force sense range.

And someone was coming. Dark energy flared toward him, an angry internal heat that left him shivering with its passing. He felt it rippling through the Force like heatwaves lapping against him and falling away, leaving ice in its wake.

Despite his bravado, he wasn't certain he was ready to face an opponent in deadly earnest. He knew Bastila went easy on him during their training, guiding him rather than pushing him. His grasp of Force powers was weak, his movements with his lightsaber far from their former peak. A couple weeks of practice weren't enough to regain a lifetime of studied perfection.

The door opened. The man who entered radiated the dark power that Nile had sensed, but he held only a two-ended sword, not a lightsaber.

"Well, well. A Jedi, come to save his little soldier friends. I was hoping someone would try a foolish rescue, you Jedi are so predictable."

"Foolish?" Nile asked, smiling. "Predictable? I think you mean _successful_."

The man laughed. "You cannot truly believe in your Order's foolish teachings, else you would be sitting alone meditating rather than facing me with blade in hand. Or have you Jedi decided to interfere in planetary affairs now?"

"Fighting Malak and the Sith is our place," Nile retorted. "Those who would abuse the Force for their own ends must be stopped, and the Jedi Order are the only ones in a position to do so. The Light will prevail."

The Sith snorted in mocking laughter. "How bland. You recite, as though these empty words have any meaning. No, it is the Sith who are in a position of power, the Jedi who will wane and fade away until they are only a myth."

"Not today," Nile said, and ignited his lightsaber blades.

The Sith took a step back, gave an involuntary gasp. "That weapon," he said, sounding shaken for the first time. "Where did you—"

"On the Endar Spire before it crashed, I encountered a few Sith," Nile said, giving the weapon a casual flourish. The deep thrum of the blades cutting through the air echoed in the enclosed room.

"That is my master's blade," the Sith said, anger tinging his voice. "You will die for this insult!"

The words were hardly out of his mouth before he charged forward, his cortosis-weave blades meeting the sizzling lightsaber's. His style was almost as aggressive as Nile's own, but more practiced. Nile could read him easily enough, but his reactions weren't perfect.

This was nothing like sparring with Bastila. Every strike carried the opponent's full weight, the power of his hatred and fury bleeding through the Force to wash against Nile, eroding away at his calm center.

 _They're away, I'm coming back for you._

Nile stumbled, deactivated one blade to execute a quick parry, then jumped back and reactivated his saber fully.

 _You shouldn't be— distracting, stay—_

He couldn't concentrate on his fight and a conversation, so he let the mental communication lapse as he ducked away from another overhanded sweeping strike.

The momentum of a double-ended weapon let it build into deadly combination attacks, one blade followed by the other followed by the first in rapid succession without letting up. The fact that he had a double-ended weapon of his own didn't negate his opponent's advantage. As long as he remained on the defencive, he'd be hard pressed.

He tried to gain momentum of his own, but the constant barrage of strikes were too closely placed and too well timed for him to retaliate in kind.

Bastila was coming. If he could survive that long, together they would take down this lightsaberless pretender with ease.

The Sith leaped atop the control console, used the height to give additional power to a leaping sweep that, even blocked, staggered Nile from his stance. He deactivated his saber, rolled back and jumped to his feet, reactivating his blades just in time to block the aggressive flurry his adversary hammered into him.

He pushed back, reversing the hold on his hilt to twist it away, switching off one blade long enough to change his fighting style and hopefully unsettle his opponent's rhythm, but he wasn't fast enough to gain the advantage.

Resigned to accepting his defencive role, Nile continued to parry and deflect and back away around the room.

The Sith grew more furious as the fight dragged on, frustrated by his inability to destroy his opponent despite Nile's clear inferiority as a swordfighter. Yellow light shone in his eyes as he raised a hand and sent the receptionist's chair hurtling toward Nile with a gesture.

The Force echoed ahead of the movement, Nile easily dodged aside. He danced around the Sith, blocking the continued saber attacks, then reached out and pulled the chair back toward the Sith from behind. His opponent leaped over the obstacle, which Nile let slide to a stop just in front of him.

"Is this all you are, Jedi," the Sith snarled. "Running and playing?"

Nile shrugged. "I'm trying to escape, you're the one attacking. Is that all _you_ are? Aggression, without reason?"

"There is plenty of reason," the Sith retorted. "Your 'Order' is an insult to the Force. You would seek to tame it, trap it in slow moving shallows without ever tasting its true strength and fury."

"The Force is stronger and wiser than us all," Nile said. "You are the ones subverting its true purpose."

"And what purpose is that? To lead arrogant fools into decadence and slow failure? Your Order would not have prevented even the Mandalorians from doing as they would, and now you would stand against Lord Malak and his visionary plan to unite the galaxy?"

"It was _my_ plan to unite the galaxy," Nile said without thinking. "Malak wanted only to rule. It won't last, not with me working against him."

He felt suddenly unreal, as though he were speaking through an echo chamber, his self disconnected from the events. Time stopped, his opponent about to speak, himself holding a red-bladed saberstaff, confusion painting over his thoughts.

He was supposed to be uniting the galaxy. He _was_ supposed to be uniting the galaxy. Malak was useful, so long as he was kept in check. He _knew_ that.

 _Revan._

 _Darth Revan._

 _Lord Revan._

 _Jedi Revan._

 _Nile Chan._

There was too much. It didn't all fit. It couldn't.

He was _Malak's Sith Master_.

He was the Jedi hero of the Mandalorian Wars.

He was. . .

His mind flinched from the truth, but he couldn't turn away this time. He was dead. Betrayed and destroyed.

His vision blurred, everything wavering as he stumbled a step back. Nothing else moved, as though time itself were holding still for him.

He was Nile. He _had been_ Nile. But he had also been Revan. And he _was_ Revan.

He was _dead_.

How was he here? How was he a Jedi? Who was he really?

Did it matter any longer?

He could see clearly that Malak needed to be stopped. Without someone to hold his former friend in check, the galaxy would suffer and burn, and the Sith would leave a scar on the Republic that would be generations in healing.

Nile Revan took a breath, centered his focus, returned to the moment. His opponent stood frozen, Force holding him in stasis. The room was eerily still, as though he stood at the center of a bubble of paused time held in place by his mind.

Only then did he notice the strain, release the heavy bands of Force he held with a deathlike mental grip.

The Sith fell backwards, gasping and staring at him in shock.

"I am Revan," he said, turning fully to face his opponent, calm certainty bolstering his strength. He relaxed into the Force, let it suffuse his body and lend him speed and strength. "Tell Malak that he will stop this fool war or I will stop him. Personally. Understand?"

The Sith bared his teeth. "You are a Jedi and a fool," he hissed defiantly. "I'm not your messenger boy. And Revan is dead."

"Revan _was_ dead," Nile Revan corrected, Pulling the enemy's blade from his grasp with a gesture and flinging it away across the room. "Now, I am reborn."


	16. The Rewards of Proper Research

**_AR: day 20_**

 ** _Domination, Outer Rim Space_**

* * *

Malak strode the deck of his ship, looking impressive. He didn't really have another job, from what he could tell. He had to decide where they'd go, who they'd fight, but while moving between star systems he basically just looked intimidating and ensured that his subordinates didn't rebel.

He wasn't having a particularly interesting day, so it was a pleasant surprise when his holotable informed him of Admiral Kareth's communication. Since he'd left Taris five days previously, the _Leviathan_ had only transmitted the barest minimum of information about the ongoing search for his new apprentice.

"Yes, Admiral Kareth?" Malak answered, turning dramatically to face the holoprojector. "What news of Bastila?"

"I'm sorry, Lord Malak. It appears we have failed you completely. Bastila and another Jedi broke into our base on Taris, released some Republic soldiers we had captured, and then disappeared again. But, that's not why I called."

"What has happened, Admiral?" Malak demanded, his voice harsh.

"The Jedi prisoner, Shalli Cora, has escaped to the surface. We tried to recapture her, but she somehow destroyed any fighters that got near her shuttle."

"How? I instructed specifically that she was not to escape under any circumstances."

Kareth swallowed, bowed. "I know, my lord. I cannot apologize enough, I know this is an unforgivable failing. She had help, Lord Malak. It would seem Jaq has defected and arranged her escape."

Malak stared at the hologram for a long moment. He'd hardly been away for enough time to accomplish anything, and now everything was falling apart behind him. What was most important at the moment?

Kareth waited.

"I will rejoin you over Taris," Malak decided. "My plans here can wait. These Jedi, it seems, cannot be put off."

"Thank you, Lord Malak," Kareth said, bowing again. "It will be good to see you again in person."

"Find those Jedi, Admiral Kareth," Malak said, then ended the holocommunication.

He turned to his ship-flying people, his cape flaring dramatically behind him. "Change course. We are returning to Taris immediately."

"Yes Lord Malak," echoed from the workers, and the _Domination_ turned slowly toward its new destination.

* * *

 ** _AR: day 21_**

 ** _Lower City, Taris_**

* * *

Atton and Shalli arrived on Taris' surface with all the elegance of a downed goose. Though they'd eventually repelled the attempts of the fighters to destroy their shuttle, _Leviathan_ had been quite determined to recapture or kill them and had left them without much in the way of control over their descent.

"Malak is a filthy traitor," Shalli snarled in a rage as she climbed out into the lower streets of Taris from the derelict shuttle. "He and all of his will pay for this insult."

She stood a moment surveying her surroundings, then snapped, "Atton, with me," as she, in no mood for conversation, strode toward the nearest collection of direction signs.

Atton picked up on her mood and did not attempt to converse, scurrying after her obediently. Fortunately for him, as it meant she had to satisfy her fury on the shuttle that had dared to crash. Whirling about, Shalli leveled her rage at its smoking form.

Lightning blasted from her hands, scarring the hull with burn marks, but that wasn't sufficient. She roared, tightened her fists and crushing Force gathered around and smashed the shuttle, compressing it smaller and smaller until it was nearly as small as the fighters. With a final roar of anger, she let the crumpled durasteel ball topple off the damaged street and into the depths of Taris.

Chest heaving, eyes glowing, she stared after it with bared teeth for a long moment, then whirled about and strode off again in the direction she'd chosen.

Atton hurried after her, unwilling to risk her turning that awe-inspiring rage against him. He knew he wouldn't survive it nearly as well as the shuttle had. He wanted to ask where they were going, but his self-preservation instincts informed him that this would be an unwise question to ask in Shalli's current mood.

"You, Atton, where can I find a ship?" Shalli demanded quite abruptly as they were walking.

"I'm not entirely sure," Atton said hastily "but I know I can find one. Give me. . . an hour or so, and I'll have found the best ship on the planet."

"Very well," Shalli said, "you have an hour. Go find me a ship."

Atton hurried past her toward the elevator, then turned before entering it.

"Where can I find you? " he asked.

"I will find you," Shalli said, imperiously. "Do not worry. Just find my ship."

Atton bowed. "As you wish," he said, feeling very odd. This wasn't him. He didn't usually grovel, wasn't usually in quite such a rush to do whatever he was told. But, he supposed, when his life was in such dire peril he had little choice in the matter. There wasn't much else he could do, anyway. Shalli had promised him freedom as long as he served her now, and that was a better offer than he was ever going to get from Malak. He might as well get used to it.

The elevator was not exactly out of order, but it was not in full working order either. He pressed the button to ascend, guessing from the skyscrapers' layout that the best hangers, best ships, and best security would be toward the top. He wouldn't go quite all the way, that would attract too much attention and he was definitely not dressed for an infiltration of that sort. However, he had a good knack for finding ships, finding people.

The first level he arrived at didn't have an exit to the streets, but did have several apartments which he suspected were normally occupied. Today though, there seemed to be some kind of ruckus going on, and no one appeared to be home.

He sliced the lock on one of these, located a holo interface, and set about searching through the holonet for any sign of the sorts of ships he could expect to find here. He didn't think much of the selection he discovered, but it was certainly superior to what was available on board the _Leviathan._

Most people didn't publicly advertise their garage's contents on the holonet, of course, so he had to do some guessing. Cross referencing the ships available in the area with those wealthy enough to afford high-end ones, then compare those names to those of people with frequent off world business, and he was starting to narrow it down. It had taken more than half of his hour, by this time, but he was pretty sure he'd be able to locate a suitable shuttle, fighter, or long range cargo vessel in any of a dozen homes scattered across the planet.

The nearest of these, Davik Kang, was a relatively high-end member of the Exchange. Atton would normally have avoided crossing the Exchange, but in this case he was fairly sure that Shalli would leave a much stronger impression then he would. If he was ever going to tangle with the Exchange, he was sure it would be best done at Shalli's side.

Then again, if there was any way he could stage the confrontation so he seemed to be on both sides simultaneously. . . a connection to the Exchange wasn't something to be frivolously ignored as a possibility. Once he was done with Shalli and safely away from here and everything related to the Sith, he might well be happy enough taking up a position with them.

He considered the option vaguely, then realized that there was a good chance Shalli was reading his mind, and though he didn't think she had any reasonably way to have a problem with his making plans for after their paths split so long as he had no intention of opposing her directly or interfering with whatever her plans were, he suspected she wouldn't be happy at any attempt to be seen as playing both sides either.

Resigning himself to an enforced attitude of subservience whatever he chose, he hurried to the nearest seedy bar and started carefully asking for directions to the building in which Davik Kang lived, without seeming to ask about the Exchange boss directly.

It didn't work. He may be good at talking fast, shooting, and breaking the spirits of Jedi prisoners, but he was in a little too much of a hurry to be properly subtle.

Not long after he had begun his line of inquiry, a group of thugs strong-armed him into a side room and ordered him to wait. He didn't much like the idea of waiting alone in a guarded room for who-knew-what, but, as with his relationship with Shalli, he didn't really have a choice in the matter.

A few minutes later, a big strong tattooed Mandalorian entered the room, a heavy repeater slung casually across his shoulders.

"So," he said, looking Atton up and down, "I hear you want to steal Davik's ship? I may be able to help you there, if you can help me in return."

* * *

 _Author's Note: _

_I wrote this section when first trying out my Dragon. Any odd wording is probably due to the voice-to-text being less than perfectly configured. I have done a quick once-over edit, but please let me know if you notice any homophones that I missed and I will correct them._


	17. Something Fishy

**_AR: day 21_**

 ** _Hrakert Station, Manaan  
_**

* * *

Jack Khan stood in a flooded underwater base, staring out at the source of the telepathic scream that had been echoing through his mind with increasing insistence ever since his crash-landing into the deep ocean. There were other survivors in the base, those whose minds were strong enough to filter out the interference and ignore the scream, but most of the occupants had been selkath. And the call seemed to resonate most strongly with the selkath.

Some went into a rage and tried to kill anyone they saw - including each other. Some tried to tear apart the base, which had resulted in large sections being sealed off from the rest as water flooded them.

And others just stood and screamed and screamed, echoing and repeating that call.

 ** _GO AWAY, HELP ME, LEAVE ME_**

Jack could hear it, as well as feel it. Echoing from the creature that hurled itself at the harvesting machinery as though trying to intimidate the harvester into leaving. At its calls for help, more firaxin sharks swarmed around it, attacking the machine and the windows of the base itself with equal ferocity.

Several more sections of the base had been flooded, and one broken open so severely that sharks now swam in and out of it at their leisure. But for the most part, the construction was holding up well against the onslaught. The one broken window and a few split seams that allowed rooms to flood were all confined to the outermost section of the base. The rest of it would hold its stability for months yet.

But the inside wasn't faring well, even if it was secure from the sharks for the time being. Jack knew that of the selkath in the base, those who were aggressively killing and eating anyone they found would soon be the only survivors. Whittling down each other, and the other groups, with unthinking fury. Within weeks the base would be an empty wreck.

There were no subs left. Two had tried to flee shortly after Jack crash-landed, and both had been swarmed by the firaxin sharks and destroyed long before getting close to the surface.

They were trapped, he and the handful of human survivors. They'd been able to put up a forcefield to protect their small section of the base - which included four unflooded and six flooded sections, including the one into which his ship had smashed - from the angry selkath and firaxin sharks, but it wouldn't be enough for long.

The walls were not unbreakable, nor were the machines they relied upon for survival. Before long, the air supply or food would run out, or the generator or the heating would fail, and they would suffocate or starve or be eaten or drowned.

Their future was bleak, but he did his best to keep the researchers busy. Two were assigned to finding a way to stop the firaxin sharks from attacking, while the other three were supposed to be researching why the giant telepathic fish was so aggressive and how to stop it.

There were plenty of supplies and prototypes; some of these questions or similar had occurred to the harvesting crews before the incident had made everything so desperate.

He leaned his helmet-protected forehead against the broken window - cracked, not shattered - and closed his eyes.

 _We mean you no harm. We cannot leave. What do you want?_

He thought it as vehemently as he could, tried to focus his message out toward the creature, tried as he had for hours and hours to initiate a return connection. If they could just communicate properly, this whole misunderstanding could be cleared up. The research station had no intent to harm the creature or its kin, no desire to fight the life already existing beneath the oceans.

 _I can help you, if you calm down and let me. Can you hear me? Please, we want to help._

Nothing. No reply, not even the slightest indication that his attempt was having any effect at all.

Jack sighed, shook his head, and turned away. He keyed in the airlock sequence, stepped through, and let the water drain away around him. Releasing his helmet, he clumsily emerged into the outermost of their four rooms that still contained air instead of water. He stripped off the suit, leaving it in a puddle beside the airlock, and stretched his arms wearily.

Back to work.

He made his face into something approaching his usual playful cheer, but paired with a determined expression that the researchers seemed to equate with 'leadership ability'. Jack wasn't the person _he'd_ have picked for the job, but with only six other survivors his pickings were slim. And before his arrival, the best plans seemed to be 'go out alone to cross the ocean floor and hope I don't get eaten' or 'fix that broken sub and hope we don't get swarmed like the others were'. Either of which would surely have accomplished nothing but reducing the number of survivors still further.

So Jack reviewed camera footage with them, did his best to sound like he had even a vague idea what they were talking about as they went over charts and diagrams and analyses of local species. It was the sort of work he'd usually have delegated, but as he was as stuck here as the others, he considered it his duty to at least keep them from doing anything suicidally idiotic.

 _If_ the firaxin sharks didn't manage to destroy the generator, and _if_ the air and water filtration systems remained intact, and _if_ nothing happened to destroy the integrity of the last two airlocks, they had enough supplies to last months. The station had been designed to support dozens of workers and full-time employees, and they had just received a supply delivery the week before everything went mad.

With only the seven of them, as long as no more major damage occurred, they could survive long enough to come up with a plan, or be rescued from the surface when the base dropped out of contact and someone had to investigate.

But Jack had no intention of staying any longer than he had to. He was a free agent, going from one place to another without obligation or remorse, and he was already starting to feel trapped and confined by the four rooms they had to share.

He did his best to keep up a good face for the others, but much more of this and he was going to lose it. And the rest of the survivors were fragile enough as it was, if he started glowering and snapping, they'd all quickly devolve into a useless mire of argument and discouragement which wouldn't accomplish anything.

So he smiled, looked determined, and strode confidently into the storeroom they'd now designated as the workshop.

"Reports?" he asked firmly.

"I've located files relating to a synthetic poison that could eradicate firaxin," reported Kono. "It would spread through the water, become ineffective beyond a moderate range, but could give us a window to escape."

"We don't know the long term effects it could have on the ocean," Sami protested from beside him. "Setting something like that off so close to the kolto could have terrible consequences. Can you imagine the selkath's reactions if it comes out that we've poisoned the biggest kolto rift within reach of Ahto City? They'll throw the Republic off the planet for good!"

"There's no proof it would do _anything_ to the kolto," Kono said. "It's intended as a weapon against sharks, nothing more."

"Good work," Jack said, cutting in before the argument could grow further. "Keep on that, Kono, Sami. If you need some raw kolto or something to test it on to see if there's any change, let me know. I don't want to have to kill anything, but it's a good backup to have in place. If we ever need to get out of here in a hurry, we'd be glad to have it available."

Kono nodded and turned back to his work, though Sami initially looked like she wanted to protest.

"Next?" Jack asked, moving on before she could do so.

The next researcher was working on a sonic emitter that, he claimed, would stun or outright kill any firaxin sharks in the close vicinity.

"The main problem at the moment is that the sonic pulse travels _too_ well underwater," he said. "It causes severe damage to any protective suits in the range as well, shatters the faceplates. I'm trying to find a frequency which will still take care of the sharks without hurting the person using it."

Jack nodded, wished him luck, and moved on.

Deram thought that he'd discovered the reason behind the attacks. "That really big fish out there, it's only focused on the harvesting machinery. I think it's attracted by the vibrations and riled up. If we could shut it off. . ."

"All those controls are in the other section of the building," Jack pointed out. "And the only people alive over there are selkath who have gone so crazy they're literally eating each other."

"But there are external controls for uploading new instructions via droid," Deram said, sounding excited and confident. "We could overload the panel somehow, or set the machine on a self-destructive course."

"Figure out a way to do it, more options are always better," Jack instructed.

The last duo were trying to rig a communications array that could cut through the interference and get word to the surface of their plight. Unfortunately, they didn't have enough supplies to get the array working smoothly, so were discussing various alternative parts. Jack offered the remains of his spaceship, which had working communication systems as of the day before when it had crashed, and they eagerly took him up on the offer to go out and salvage what he could.

They gave him a checklist of things to specifically look for and, looking much cheered, set about discussing how they could use not exactly compatible ship parts in building a usable array for underwater transmission. Jack left them to it, feeling he'd done his duty, and climbed back into his suit for another foray into the flooded rooms.

It was good for him, too, he decided, having something to do that felt actually useful. He smiled as he finished pulling on the bulky underwater suit, checked the seals, and stepped into the airlock.


	18. Introduction: Zila Tana

_Scattered throughout the galaxy, they remembered._

 _Not by any design, nor by their own will, they remembered instincts for fighting, for strategy. Instincts for the Force, for protection and attack._

 _And they remembered a place, not all the same place, not all sure of what the place was that they saw._

 _To that place, they each directed their path._

* * *

 ** _AR: day 18_**

 ** _Shadowlands, Kashyyyk_**

* * *

The woman called Zila Tana awakened in a wrestling match with a mad wookiee.

She understood at once how to best utilize his own weight and momentum against him, but in a tight grapple like the one she found herself in there was no way to exploit that understanding.

She was forced backwards, her own weight barely budging the mountain of fur and muscle that struggled to crush her.

"We don't have to fight," she said as firmly as the situation allowed. "I really don't want to hurt you."

"All outsiders are evil and must be destroyed!" the wookiee growled, diving forward to crush her beneath him.

She twisted aside, holding the wookiee's left arm in both of hers, barely got her feet under her quickly enough, and crouched low.

A human would have fallen over her with his own momentum and smacked hard to the ground.

The wookiee stumbled, caught his balance, and snapped his arm up just as she loosened her grip. Zila went flying, lost all orientation, and smacked hard to the ground.

Dizzily, she saw the wookiee unstrap his massive two-bladed sword from his back.

 _There is no emotion, there is peace_ , she mentally recited. _There is no death, there is. . ._

Zila smiled. How had she forgotten? Energy flowed all around her, within the wroshyr trees, within the dire katarns lurking in the dark. Power surrounded her, the Force answered her call and wrapped around her, a cocoon of protection and strength and pure life.

The wookiee's savage strike glanced off the not-quite-solid shield around her as she stood and stepped aside at a speed that made his attack seem slow. Dancing away from his attacks, she moved into a rhythm of closing and retreating. She didn't have her lightsaber, had no idea where it had ended up after so long, but she sensed something else nearby.

She backed away, drawing the mad wookiee after her. Cautious, not letting him catch her, but not getting too far away. Dancing around him, always keeping just out of reach.

The beast behind her was a dark echo, something she hadn't felt since Korriban, but something lighter called out to her from within it. Dark creature behind, wookiee in front. She backed closer, waiting, shielded and hastened, but not invulnerable. Every second held the threat of failure, her focus had to remain unwavering.

She was very good at unwavering focus.

Backing up more, she called to the beast with her mind, dodged the wookiee, slipped around behind him.

With a roar, the terentatek charged out from the brush. Seeing only the wookiee, it roared challenge and lowered its head.

The wookiee gasped and turned to flee, but Zila was faster. She dove at the wookiee, just as it turned, hit its leg with all the force of her quick charge. Already surprised, already afraid, it toppled to the ground.

Zila was already moving away, out of the path of the charging terentatek, out from under the doomed wookiee, into the underbrush and behind a gigantic tree. She breathed out, calming herself.

She couldn't remember why she was here, or how she had ended up being attacked by a wookiee.

There was still something light shining from within the dark energy of destruction that was the terentatek. She saw a glint of metal sticking from its hide, which was not the light but it was a weapon. She had lost her lightsaber somewhere, could remember not-having it but not where or when, and the broken vibroblade was the best she was likely to find out here.

Where was she? A problem for another time. Right now, something within that terentatek needed to be rescued.

The giant force-resistant beast crouched over its wookiee kill, munching with loud disturbing noises. Zila tried not to think about it. She looked around the vicinity instead. Trees, vines, low underbrush. Plenty of places to hide, plenty of trees to dodge behind, plenty of ways to evade.

And that light called to her, asking to be rescued.

Reaching out to the Force, Zila coaxed the vibroblade free of the terentatek's hide, pulled it to her waiting hand. It had no hilt, and she dropped it with a hiss of pain. Despite its long entombment, it still held an edge.

The terentatek turned at the sensation, and its small angry eyes found her before she could duck back out of sight. She jumped, scrambled into the tree just ahead of the beast's charge. It slammed head-first into the trunk, shaking it, but the tree was vast enough that its minor tremor did nothing to disrupt her rapid climb.

And still that light called to her, begging her assistance. She disentangled a vine, broke off a thin branch, and set about building a handle for her new weapon. Its vibration cell was clearly destroyed or absent, so it would only function as a mundane blade for the moment, but it was of unparalleled quality. In all her days, Zila had never seen its equal.

The terentatek below continued its futile bellowing and stomping, flinging its grim claws against the tree, tearing huge chunks from it and throwing them in every direction as it raged. Zila knew that even this great tree wouldn't be able to stand up to such an assault forever. She hastened to complete her makeshift weapon, tested it against the branch upon which she stood to be sure it wouldn't just slide apart at the slightest provocation.

It held, so she swung down a vine and twisted in midair to land on the furious terentatek's back. She stabbed down hard, the blade sliding off the creature's massive skull. It howled and thrashed, trying to dislodge her, but she clung to her weapon's hilt and managed not to be knocked free.

The moment the beast paused to look for her, she withdrew the blade and slammed it down again. She felt the crack, the faintest splintering beneath her blow. It roared and charged about, smashing into trees and throwing clods of earth with its huge claws, and Zila had a much harder time of staying on its back.

She raised her sword one final time, then thrust it downward with all her strength and leapt free of the terentatek as it fell. It continued to thrash and twitch for several minutes, but finally lay still. Zila sliced neatly into its first stomach, the light guiding her, and withdrew a Force-wrought tiara nestled among other non-digestible matter such as rocks. It was a bit battered, a bit slimy, but she felt the warmth of it as she held it up in the dim light of the Shadowlands.

Its presence sparked something within her. Some deep urgency, some quiet demand. Of something greater than a simple hunting trip, of some future more important than the exchange of goods and wealth.

Zila turned to face another direction, where something else called to her. Ordinarily, she'd have ignored the vague feeling. Instinct was no replacement for logical assessment. But now, she found her feelings carried a weight to them that she couldn't have described if she'd tried. She didn't even notice as all her plans were quietly displaced by older, grander designs.

A greater destiny.

* * *

 _Profile Notes: Zila Tana is short, with dark skin, green eyes, and straight silver hair trimmed to jaw length. She is thin, spry, wiry, and extraordinarily flexible._  
 _Light-dark ratio: 75-25_  
 _Key traits: focused_  
 _Favoured Weapon: Single blade_  
 _Outfit: Massassi Light Armour_


	19. Concealed, Revealed

**AR: Day 20**

 **Sith Military Base, Taris**

* * *

When Bastila reached the Sith base, Revan already had the Sith governor subdued and restrained. Revan was pacing the room, twirling his lightsaber hilt around his fingers and flipping it from hand to hand in a complex pattern. He did not look up as Bastila entered the room.

"I told you not to come back," he said softly.

"I sensed you were in danger," she replied.

"What am I?" he asked, still more quietly.

"A hero," Bastila said, though she sensed the deep disquiet in him, and her answer did nothing to calm it.

His voice so faint she could hardly hear it, he whispered, "Am I truly?"

"Revan, you—"

"Yes," he said, whirling to face her for the first time. "Yes, now I see it. You wanted me to be Revan, didn't you? Not the true Revan, though, the Revan from the stories _you_ tell. The Revan who believed everything the Jedi taught."

Bastila felt a shiver of fear before she could suppress it. _There is no emotion, there is peace_. But Revan did not seem at peace. He sounded distraught, on the edge.

"You volunteered," she said.

"What?" He sounded shocked, confused. His pacing stopped abruptly and he fumbled his lightsaber, nearly dropping it.

"Nile Chan, explorer, volunteered for a dangerous experimental procedure intended to recover memories from Darth Revan's mind after the Jedi attempt at capture ended with the dark lord's death." _Volunteered_ was a generous term; he'd basically been bribed, promised that if the attempt failed he would be very well compensated, but no need for her to mention that now. "We were careful to maintain your inner light, to strengthen your devotion and not let Darth Revan's fall affect your mind."

Revan was silent a moment, then gave a half-sincere laugh. "So I'm an imitation, built from a soldier's life, but one given willingly. I can accept that. Indeed, of all the possibilities for my survival, this is not one I'd ever have imagined. You have surprised me, Bastila Shan.

"Yes," he continued, musingly now, "that explains everything. I worried that I was losing my mind. Parts of two lives, interlaced with no explanation or intersection. Now I understand."

He closed his eyes, knelt at once with his lightsaber held before him, and Bastila watched with her concern slowly ebbing away. He radiated peace and light, his mind and spirit drawing inward toward balance.

He was centering himself, after some part of the fight had left him imbalanced.

"What happened, if I may ask?" Bastila inquiered.

"I fought, and discovered that I am Revan," he said.

"How?" Bastila asked. "Did you remember something?"

"Not clearly. He was taunting me, bragging about Malak's plan, and I knew the plan was mine. Not his. But the plan couldn't be mine, it was Revan's."

"You've remembered things about your past before," Bastila pointed out. "We've discussed them, even."

"Yes," Revan said, "but that was just talk. I didn't _know_ who I was, only what you said. My memory was too disjointed. It still is, but now there's a core to it. A solidity. I am Revan, truly, not a confused man called Nile, not a dark lord in arrogance. Jedi Revan."

"You were Force-sensitive before this," she said. "Unknown, untrained, but capable. We tried seven times before reaching success. You were our last, desperate gamble. And it worked, as far as we can tell."

"As far as you can tell," he echoed, and laughed again. He rose, clipped his lightsaber in its place at his belt. "We should depart. I sense we will be in danger should we remain here much longer."

"Lead on, Revan," Bastila replied, falling into step beside him. She smiled, trying not to feel as proud as she did to be walking by the side of a legend who had finally accepted his place fully. She was a Jedi, but she was also a human woman with a man she'd idolized for much of her training.

She would not be distracted. She looked at the ceiling instead, reciting the Jedi code to herself until her mind was clear and her feelings stilled.

 _There is no emotion, there is peace._

* * *

Governor Ovrin Demar, administrator of eighteen upper and lower Taris districts by appointment of Lord Malak, waited only moments after Bastila and the stranger calling himself Revan departed. As soon as they were well away from him, he pulled his vibroblade to his hand and set about cutting free his bonds.

Who did they think they were, traipsing in here and tying him up? And the one calling himself Revan, aside from being about a foot too tall, also carried Lord Bandon's lightsaber!

Ovrin rummaged in his desk, but his datapad was missing. The Jedi must have stolen that too. Worse still, it contained the clearance codes for departure from Taris space.

He pulled out his comlink and dialed Lord Bandon's frequency. The connection went through almost immediately.

"What is it, apprentice?" his master asked.

"Two Jedi just broke in, Master," Ovrin reported. "One was Bastila Shan, the other a tall bald man I'm not familiar with. He carried your lightsaber."

Lord Bandon made an angry sound somewhere between a hiss and a growl. "That one. I trust you killed him for his insolence?"

"I'm sorry, Master, they defeated me. The stranger with your weapon called himself 'Revan' and claimed he'd been reborn. He wanted me to tell Lord Malak as much."

Lord Bandon was silent a moment. "And he was _bald_ you say? Tall, with a little beard?"

"Yes, my lord. He bore so little resemblance to Revan it was laughable even to acknowledge the claim. But he did defeat me easily, master. He. . . froze the entire room into stillness for nearly half a minute."

"That makes it no less intolerable," Bandon growled. "Wait for me. I will rejoin you and together we will search out and destroy this Jedi fool."

Ovrin bowed by reflex, though Lord Bandon wouldn't see the gesture. "Of course, Master. Thank you. Oh, one other thing. They stole my datapad, so we should probably inform Admiral Kareth to update the departure clearance codes right away."

"See to it, apprentice. I will see you soon."

Lord Bandon closed the connection.

Ovrin paused only long enough to shift from subservience to confidence, then called Admiral Kareth.

"What do you want, Governor?"

"Admiral, two Jedi broke in, defeated me, stole the departure codes, and released our Republic prisoners. Lord Bandon will be helping me recapture them, but in the meantime I suggest you replace the clearance codes immediately."

Admiral Kareth was silent a long moment. "Thank you," he said at last. "I'll handle it."

Ovrin hesitated. "One of the Jedi claimed he was Revan reborn," he said. "He wanted the message delivered to Lord Malak."

"That is absurd," said Admiral Kareth. "We have confirmation from several independent sources. Revan is dead, and has been so for weeks."

"He looks nothing like Revan, but he is powerful. I told Lord Bandon, but. . ." Ovrin trailed off uncertainly. Apparently his confidence had been more shaken by this new 'Revan' than he'd realized.

"Interesting." Admiral Kareth fell silent again, then finally said. "Thank you, Governor."

Ovrin sat on the mat before his desk, meditating with his vibroblade across his lap, trying to center himself after the afternoon's disruption.

But try as he might, he couldn't free himself of the memory of a moment stretched out without end. His entire body frozen. Unable to move, his heartbeat stilled, his mind sluggish.

The amount of power it required to hold an entire room in stasis was not common among either Sith or Jedi.

Revan had been one of those few. If this newcomer could truly match strength with the fallen Dark Lord, there would be another upheaval across the galaxy soon. Ovrin had joined the Sith because they were the most powerful, the obvious victors in the ongoing galactic reorganization.

Lord Bandon was strong. Lord Malak was stronger. But this new Revan may be the most powerful Force user Ovrin had ever encountered.

The longer he considered, the less certain he became which side would be the winning one.


	20. The Sound of Hope

**_AR: day 22_**

 ** _Hrakert Station, Manaan_**

* * *

Jack Khan returned from cannibalizing his crashed ship with a serviceable communication array, and his team spent the next day cobbling it together with the existing tech in the station.

"This is Hrakert station. Please respond if you can hear us." Pause. Change channel. "Hello, is anyone there? This is Hrakert Station, please respond." Pause.

By the time they finally established communication to the surface Jack was nearing the end of his calm.

"Hrakert Station, this is Azeron on Manaan. Where are you located and why are you connecting on this channel?"

"I have no idea where we are," Jack said, "but I crashed and we're being attacked by crazy Selkath and sharks which prevent us reaching the surface."

There was a pause on the other end. "You are underwater? Hrakert Station is located on Manaan itself?"

"Yes," Jack answered. He turned to the others. "Anyone have our actual location?"

One of the scientists rambled off a list of numbers and letters which Jack repeated to Azeron.

"You're near a major kolto rift," Azeron said, sounding surprised. "The Selkath don't allow anyone but their own people down there."

"I crashed my ship," Jack said. "Accidentally. And the selkath down here aren't particularly open to negotiation."

There was a longer silence.

"You say the sharks are acting aggressive and not letting you reach the surface?" Azeron asked.

"They destroyed two of our subs when we tried to escape."

Another pause.

"Give us four days and we'll mount a rescue," Azeron said at last. "I'll need to procure authorization and we'll need to bring in a heavy sub capable of dealing with your sharks, but I think we can pull it off. Don't try to contact me again. I'll call to keep you apprised, but I strongly suspect that whatever operation you crashed into down there is covert. If you accidentally tip off the Ahto city selkath to your presence, they may kill you themselves."

"Understood," Jack said, the building tension of the hopeless situation beginning to relax. "Thank you."

"Azeron out."

Jack closed his end of the connection, then leaned back and breathed out a long sigh of relief. "That's that, then. We've just got to hold out another few days, and we'll be saved."

A few of the survivors let out a cheer, but Sami frowned.

"And just who is this Azeron?" she asked. "I didn't recognize the voice. Or the accent. I don't believe he was authorized to know about this station. What kind of political fallout will this cause?"

"Right now," Jack said, "I don't care if he's a Sith lord. Anyone who can get us out of here alive is fine by me."

 _ **COME COME HELP DIE FIGHT HELP GO AWAY**_

He'd grown almost used to the screaming in his mind, but several of the scientists flinched as the mental echo intensified. Some days it was stronger, some weaker, sometimes it fluctuated moment to moment.

 _What do you want?_ Jack thought back at it, but as always nothing happened. He couldn't communicate to it, only listen in on its furious rants.

And again, from the place beyond it like an echo of an echo, something else. Waiting for him. Calling to him. Not with the confusion of the giant firaxin, but a steady pulse of quiet longing that insinuated itself into his dreams and the still moments between thought.

He shook his thoughts clear. "Now, we just need to concentrate on how we'll work this once they arrive. Even a heavy sub needs someplace safe to dock."

"Our routes to the submarine bay are all blocked," said Sami.

"For good reason," muttered Kono. "The Selkath wouldn't take kindly to us trying to push outward."

"It's either that or cross open water," Jack pointed out.

"We could have the sub pick us up at one of our airlocks," Sami suggested.

"Wouldn't work," Deram said. "The heavy subs aren't made to hold position to a sufficiently precise degree. If we misjudged our timing even a little it could crack open our suits like damp paper as we tried to swim to them."

"So we either need to cross through the water to the sub bay and barricade it from inside, or clear a path to it from here through the compound."

"Right."

"I'm not going out in that water," Kono said. "I'd rather starve than be torn apart by those sharks."

"AHA!"

Jack turned to the researcher by his table who had, thus far, not participated in the conversation.

"I think I've found a sonic frequency that will deter the sharks without harming our suits! Of course, someone will need to test it in pressurized water to ensure it actually works. . ."

Jack wanted to sigh, but as designated leader and Calm Person, he couldn't show weakness. So he smiled and waved the researcher over. "That would be for me, then. You'll have to help rig it onto my suit and show me how it works."

"Oh, it's very simple. You just attach this around your arm, so the trigger rests across your palm. Just press the button, and it emits a sonic pulse that should send the firaxin sharks running. Or, swimming, rather."

Jack gave a half-hearted laugh. "Alright. If this works, we may be able to cross to the sub bay without needing to fight our way there after all."

"I told you," Kono said firmly, "I'm not going out there."

"Kono," Sami said. "If this works, it won't be dangerous."

"I can wait here," Kono insisted. "Come back for me in a few weeks. There's plenty of food in here, and the crazy Selkath aren't going to last long. They'll starve in a week."

"Not necessarily," someone muttered darkly.

Jack shivered slightly. "Let's go get this sonic pulse rigged up. I want to know as soon as possible if it's going to work."

* * *

 ** _COME COME COME_**

 ** _GO AWAY HELP ME GO AWAY STOP STOP LEAVE_**

The open water didn't _really_ transmit the mental scream more clearly, but without the familiar hum of the life support machinery and the comfortable babble and presence of other humans, Jack felt all the more alone and vulnerable as he stepped away from the protective overhang around the airlock exit.

His suit moved sluggishly, each step heavy and slow. He couldn't outrun a crab, much less a charging firaxin.

 _This had better work, or I'm probably dead_ , he thought.

 _This way, this way._ . . a quiet whisper, not his own, rippled through his mind in a brief instant of silence. Then the vast mental shriek started back up, drowning it out before he could properly orient.

 _Something out there wants to talk to me._

He tried calling out in his mind, and aloud, in the hopes whatever or whoever it was could hear him, but there was no indication that his attempt had succeeded.

 _As usual. Why do I keep trying?_

Jack had no answer for himself, either.

He wasn't so distracted by his thoughts that he failed to notice the firaxin approaching him at a seemingly leisurely - but still terrifyingly fast - pace. He brought up his arm, any trembling concealed by the suit and absorbed by the water. It was too far out to be sure, so he forced himself to wait two heartbeats, three. The shark drew ever closer, and he pressed the button. A wave of sound rippled out through the water, though all he heard was a faint metallic hiss from the device.

The shark kept swimming forward and Jack flinched back, but it seemed to lose track of him completely. Before it reached him its trajectory changed, and it swam past him and off into the dim water where it vanished from sight.

Jack breathed a sigh of relief. For a minute there, he'd been sure he was about to die.

He started toward the other section of the base, hand ready on the button. He chose to stay close to the base's wall, though it would mean a much longer and more circuitous route, he didn't like the idea of leaving his back exposed. It would take only seconds for a shark to swoop in on him, and it was hard enough watching above him and in three directions.

It took longer, sidling along the wall, but he drove off another eight sharks and reached the other airlock safely.

He was trembling enough as he emerged into the sub bay airlock that he had trouble stripping off the heavy suit, his hands slipping.

"I'm not meant for this kind of thing," he said aloud. But quietly. There may be mad Selkath around and he didn't want to attract too much attention. "Give me a ship, and sure. I'll break any blockade or outfly any fighter you want to name. But sharks? Not for me. How do I get into these things?"

He waited a few minutes to get his fear back under control - a few careful breathing exercises and carefully putting out of mind the memory of sharks charging him with hungry fury in their eyes. Then he readied his weapons and opened the interior airlock door.

"Ready or not, here I come."


End file.
